


I Know Him So Well

by MissJEDoe



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Modern AU, Past Relationships, References to Depression, Reunion, it's in two scenes so there will be warnings before so you can skip it, just a piece of trash if i'm perfectly honest, relationships, self harm so please don't read if you might get upset by this, short chapters mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 34,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJEDoe/pseuds/MissJEDoe
Summary: It's been years since Enjolras and Grantaire broke up. And everything's fine, until Grantaire gives in to Joly's pestering and comes along to an ABC meeting. They talk and come back into each other's orbits and maybe - just maybe - it will work out this time.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a while and it's just a bit of fun. I'm not claiming that this is a piece of literary masterpiece - far from it, really. Let me know if you enjoy it!

“I think I’ve convinced a friend to join the society,” Joly said, directing this at Enjolras. “Said he’s interested in the fundraising and campaigning we do.”

                He nodded, not really paying attention. The proposal in front of him was much more pressing. “Sounds good. Is he coming on Monday?”

                “Hopefully, yeah.”

                “What’s his name?” Courfeyrac asked, wondering whether Joly had mentioned him before. The young doctor shrugged.

                “Grantaire. He works at the bakery in town – you know the one that does glucose free?” Stunned and pale, Courfeyrac nodded. “I’ve been trying to make him come for _months_.”

                Courfeyrac and Combeferre both looked at Enjolras, waiting for his reaction. His mind was reeling and he felt sick but he’d made a promise to himself a long time ago that no one would know of his feelings towards the artist – and, apparently, baker. So he forced a shrug and a smile.

                “The more the merrier.”

                Combeferre and Courfeyrac tried to talk to him about it after everyone else had gone home but he shrugged them off, echoing that he just didn’t want anyone to know. He hoped that Grantaire, too, would feel uncomfortable enough about their past to stay quiet.

                But he knew Grantaire well enough to know that these hopes were _probably_ going to be met with disappointment.

 


	2. 2

“Sorry we’re almost late,” Joly said brightly, glancing over his shoulder as he stepped into the large room at the top of the Musain they used for social evenings. Enjolras felt his skin prickle and glow as he looked up from the notes he was working with, expectant and terrified.

                Grantaire walked in after Joly and Enjolras blinked. The memories of Grantaire he had held for so many years hadn’t _nearly_ done the artist justice. His once bright eyes were darkened with shadows and his features were rounder, like he’d put on some much-needed weight. The stubble he’d barely been having to shave when they’d first met was now half a moment away from being a full beard. And the hands which Enjolras knew so well were curled around a glass bottle.

                No change there.

                Enjolras looked down again just as Joly started making introductions and carefully _didn’t_ look at Grantaire again, even when he heard his name being said. Even when Grantaire spoke.

                “Joly says you’re organising a walk against some tax that’s being introduced,” he said, voice gentle and lacking the fire Enjolras knew could be there. It was hollow. “I’d like to be involved.”

                “Would you?” He said a little sharply, still looking at the notes. “Take a seat. We’ll discuss it in a few minutes.”

                Grantaire hesitated, eyes fixed on the blond and the way his hand drifted across the paper with a pen poised to make annotations. It had been years. But he sat beside Jehan, who he was already great friends with, and the meeting started.

                Enjolras spoke like Grantaire knew he could. His voice was full and strong and there was no doubt that this was something he cared about – something his thought everyone should care about. And everyone else in the room _did_ seem to care about it – they joined in and asked questions and added their own comments and –

                “You do realise this little protest won’t actually _change_ anything, don’t you?” Grantaire sighed after maybe the third bottle. Enjolras fixed him with a sharp glare and he wouldn’t have said anything else except Feuilly asked what he meant. “I mean people don’t _care_ – people aren’t going to change how they think just because a group of queer kids are waving banners.”

                “How do you suggest we get them to change their minds then, Grantaire?” Enjolras hissed, heart thundering in his chest. How _dare_ Grantaire come to his society to be cynical.

                Grantaire spoke quietly, keeping his eyes on the blond the whole time. “Posters,” he suggested. “Leaflets – fliers. Have symbolic ribbons wrapped around streetlights – ”

                “That’s too passive.”

                “The best way to convince someone is to make it seem normal,” Grantaire countered. “Expose the general population to the consequences of this tax before you try to convince them to take action. Most people won’t even know they have the option to change it – ”

                “That’s why we’re doing this march,” Enjolras sighed. Had he just not been listening? “We’re going to make a big fuss so people remember it and are aware of it – ”

                “If you do it too forcefully people will just turn their backs,” Grantaire said. They were staring at each other. “You can’t force the world to change, Apollo. You have to help it along.”

                He took a deep breath and fought down the anger that was rising in his chest. “Did you come here just to pick fault?”

                “Not at all.”

                “Why did you come here?” He spat it out, feeling his chest tighten. Grantaire was pushing him –

                “To help you make a difference.”

                That was exactly what he was _supposed_ to say but Enjolras doubted it. He doubted the honesty and shook his head, looking away for the first time since Grantaire had spoken. He felt his eyes starting to water.

                There was a silence in the room for a moment until Courfeyrac spoke. “I think Grantaire has a good idea there,” he said, earning a glare from Enjolras. “We need to be more _widely_ present. We need to give people constant reminders. How long would it take us to get some fliers printed?”

                Combeferre shrugged. “Two days? Depends how long it takes us to design something – ”

                “Grantaire could design them,” Enjolras said coolly. They all looked at him. “What? It was his idea.”

                “I could do that,” Grantaire said, smiling very gently. “I could if you’d like.”

                Enjolras nodded once and scribbled it down in his notes that Grantaire was going to do propaganda. “Just don’t let me down.”

                “That’s not fair,” Jehan muttered. “Enj, why are you being so harsh?”

                “Grantaire’s barely said anything all meeting and you’re laying into him,” Bahorel said, frowning at the leader. “Why so mean?”

                “I’m – I’m not – ” He looked over at Combeferre, desperate for some help.

                “Enj is just tired,” he said in a suitably concerned voice. “And you might have noticed that his trich is back.”

                “Thanks,” he muttered, self-consciously putting his hand over the left side of his face to hide his eyebrow.

                “He doesn’t mean to be harsh,” Combeferre said, continuing and speaking directly to Grantaire. “Everything’s a bit much at the moment.”

                Grantaire sighed and nodded, sitting back in his seat and finishing his bottle. The meeting quickly grew to be more social and they chatted to each other in little groups, catching up on the week and discussing plans for the next few events. Enjolras spoke mostly with Courfeyrac and Combeferre but smiled and leaned in for a hug when Jehan came over. They stroked his hair, whispering that it was beautiful and absolutely perfect.

                It turned out that everyone already knew Grantaire. Feuilly and Bahorel knew him from the gym; Jehan knew him from a twilight sculpting class they’d both gone to; Joly and Bossuet knew him through university and Combeferre and Courfeyrac knew him through Enjolras. So he had lots to talk about and, even as the alcohol settled in, he could be seen chatting and laughing with his friends.

                It made Enjolras furious to see and he knew that was irrational.

                But he felt so uncomfortable with Grantaire there in _this_ room.


	3. 3

It was a relief when people started to leave, even though he loved seeing his friends. He wanted to finalise the timing for some things that were happening the next week with Courfeyrac and Combeferre so they did that and then, when they looked up, it was just Grantaire left.

                He was staring at Enjolras.

                “Want something?” The blond asked a little sharply. Grantaire took a deep breath.

                “I’d like to talk to you, Apollo.”

                “Really?” He folded his paper up and put it in his bag, not looking up. “Well, I want to go home – ”

                “Talk to him, Enj,” Combeferre sighed, taking his hand. He glared. “Come on. This isn’t going to get any better until you talk.”

                “I don’t _want_ it to get better,” he hissed. “I want him to go away.”

                “Don’t think that’s going to happen, flower,” Courfeyrac whispered. Grantaire was watching them from the other side of the table. “Besides. I still kinda like him.”

                Combeferre sucked in a breath, expecting Enjolras to retaliate to that. But he just shrugged instead.

                “Fair enough,” he muttered. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

                They shared a look and got up from their seats, taking it in turns to kiss his hair before they left. Courfeyrac made sure to pat Grantaire’s shoulder as he passed and then it was just the two of them.

                Enjolras thought he would be sick.

                “I missed you,” Grantaire said after maybe two minutes. His voice was low and warm and seemed to vibrate through the wooden table towards Enjolras.

                “You can’t say that,” he muttered, all the hurt of the last few years starting to bubble up. “You can’t come _here_ and say _that_.”

                “Apollo – ”

                “I’m not your Apollo,” he snapped. “Please don’t call me that. Not in front of them all, at least.”

                Grantaire hung his head. “I guess most of them don’t know.”

                “No, they don’t,” he said, getting to his feet. He needed air. “And I want it kept that way.”

                Grantaire was quiet for a moment long enough for Enjolras to walk towards the door. And then, as he reached for the handle and was close enough to hear, Grantaire whispered. “Are you that ashamed of me?”

                He hesitated. “No,” he said eventually. “But I’m ashamed of both of us. Please don’t bring it up again.”

                Grantaire sighed and almost let him go. But he couldn’t help saying one last thing.

                “You look beautiful tonight.”

                Enjolras wanted to respond to that. He wanted to yell and scream at Grantaire but the words wouldn’t come – the anger wouldn’t come. He just blinked very quickly and walked away, face burning. His cheeks stung when he stepped into the cool evening air as if he’d been slapped.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trigger warning* very slight mention/suggestion of self harm

Grantaire came to every meeting. He came to Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s house and sat on the settee with Joly, contributing to the discussion in valid ways but always managing to make Enjolras annoyed. So they argued – they argued regularly and frequently and never seemed to be able to reach an agreement. Someone would interrupt or tear them apart before they had chance to say what they really wanted to say.

                “You’re being cruel,” Grantaire accused one evening. Enjolras’s jaw tensed and he glared at the artist.

                “ _How_?”

                “You’ve iced me out, Ap – Enjolras,” Grantaire said, eyes heavy. “I didn’t think you could hate me so much.”

                Enjolras turned away, shaking his head, and tempted to run away and break something. “Hate you,” he muttered, one hand running through his hair. “Like I could ever fucking hate you.”

                “Then stop yelling at me.”

                Grantaire sounded so small – so tired and afraid – that Enjolras looked at him again. Everyone was talking to each other and it didn’t look like anyone had noticed that they were talking – and not about one of Enjolras’s ideas.

                Enjolras studied him. A few years ago, he’d known Grantaire better than anyone else had. He’d understood each microexpression and each little tell – when the Grantaire _he’d_ known rubbed his hand across his neck it meant he was taking time out to think about his project. Now, Enjolras didn’t have a clue. So he looked closer.

                He sat down opposite him and leaned into the little table, eyebrows drawing together. Grantaire just sat, immobile, while Enjolras examined him.

                He hadn’t shaved. Or he had – but badly. He’d cut the corner of his jaw on the right side. His t-shirt hadn’t been ironed and the collar was crumpled. Apart from that, he was sure he recognised the print on the cotton. It was something Grantaire had drawn. So he looked at Grantaire’s hands, where they lay curled together on the table. It didn’t look comfortable.

                Enjolras took a deep breath and, barely letting himself think about this, took his hands and unfolded them. Grantaire gasped and looked away, muscles rigid. Enjolras was getting closer.

                The long-sleeved shirt he was wearing over the shirt had buttoned cuffs and Enjolras touched one, raising his eyes up to look at Grantaire as if for permission. He didn’t return the eye contact so, dreading what he was about to see, Enjolras slid the button out of the hole and pushed the sleeve very gently up Grantaire’s firm forearms.

                He saw two long, scabbed-over wounds before dropping the artist’s hands and covering his face. He was going to cry.

                “Sorry, Apollo,” Grantaire whispered, redoing his button and pulling his wrists into his chest. Enjolras took a sharp breath to cover up a sob and shook his head. “Could you stop shouting at me?”

                “Of course I could,” he spat, dropping his hands to stare at the artist. “I don’t do it on purpose, R – I don’t mean to make you feel shit – ”

                “No, I know – ”

                “What are you saying? This is my fault?”

                “No, Apollo. But, please – I just didn’t think you hated me quite so – ”

                “I don’t hate you!” He hissed. He felt sick. “Grantaire, I don’t hate you. Stop focusing on me and focus on yourself for once.”

                “For once?” The artist echoed, lips turning into a lopsided grin. “I thought I was selfish and inconsiderate.”

                “Well, maybe you are,” Enjolras muttered, getting to his feet. This was too much. “Look after yourself, Grantaire.”

                The artist just sighed and finished what was in his bottle before standing and leaving the room. Enjolras thought he’d gone home so returned to Courfeyrac and Combeferre to immerse himself in a less upsetting conversation but, a few minutes later, Grantaire walked back in with another full bottle and a grin aimed at Bossuet. Who returned the grin and welcomed him back with jokes and a warm hug and Enjolras knew just how nice it was to slip his arms around Grantaire’s chest.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* Suggestion of self harm right at the end

Enjolras left early. He was still feeling sick and, though he wouldn’t admit it, guilty. Because he knew he was harsh with Grantaire but he couldn’t help it. He was hurting so much. And seeing him was so wonderful but so painful –

                His phone buzzed and he jumped, pulling the duvet up to his nose while he opened the message.

_Apollo?_

Oh god Grantaire still had his number. He considered ignoring the message but the part of him that still loved him was too strong at that moment.

_R?_

The reply came terribly quickly and he was still staring at the screen when it came though.

_Yay! Can we talk? Are you available for a phone conversation right now?_

_Yeah, I suppose_

He blinked and, suddenly, his phone was ringing and Grantaire’s number showed as the caller ID. He closed his eyes and answered.

                “Grantaire, I’m sorry for how – ”

                “Hey, no. I just wanted to talk.”

                “About what?”

                “I dunno. How we might have talked years ago.” Grantaire’s voice in the dark of his bedroom was comforting and bringing back thousands of memories of university accommodation rooms. “Before I was an ass.”

                “You’re not an ass.”

                Grantaire laughed and it made him shiver. “Thanks. I was, though.”

                Enjolras sighed. “I can’t forgive you.”

                “No, I know.”

                “I want to be nicer to you.”

                “I’d like that. But I get that I have to deserve that.”

                “No – no one deserves to feel like crap,” he whispered, rubbing his forehead. “Least of all you.”

                “Enjolras – ”

                “Grantaire – ”

                “I’m sorry for just joining your society without speaking to you about it first.”

                Enjolras managed to laugh. “That was months ago.”

                “Yeah, but I still haven’t properly apologised for uni.”

                “Don’t worry – ”

                “I do worry.”

                “It’s okay.”

                “It’s not and it’s my fault and I’m so, so sorry.”

                “I know,” he whispered, eyes burning. He was going to cry. “I know you’re sorry, lovely.”

                It slipped out. It slipped because he’d missed talking to Grantaire at night so much and it made those tears burst from his eyes and, down the phone, he heard a funny choking sound.

                “I’m not your lovely anymore,” Grantaire said with as much sharpness he could manage before hanging up and wiping his face on his sleeves. His hands were shaking and, as he reached for the pencil sharpener blade, his phone rang.

                Enjolras.

                He couldn’t not answer.

                “I’m _fine_ – ”

                “I miss you,” Enjolras whimpered, curled up in a tiny ball under his duvet. “Grantaire, I miss you so much.”

                “You can’t stand me, Apollo.”

                “I can – I can’t stand not being near you.”

                “That’s not true.”

                “Grantaire – ”

                “I’ll talk to you nicely after the next meeting, okay?” He said as gently as he could, touching the flat of the blade to his cheek. It was cold. “I’m too tired for this right now.”

                “Tired? You phone me!”

                “Enjolras, please.”

                He curled up even tighter but nodded. “Fine,” he said, “as long as you’re okay.”

                “I’m okay, Apollo. I’m glad I still have your number.”

                Enjolras laughed at this and felt a lot better. “So am I.”

                “See you soon, Apollo.”

                Grantaire hung up and closed his eyes. Enjolras had touched him – had touched his hands. After so many years –

                He’d called him _lovely_.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trigger warning* self harm suggestion/depression

Grantaire didn’t go to the next meeting and, to begin with, Enjolras was angry. And then he got worried.  
When Joly said he hadn’t heard from him he was terrified and phoned Grantaire’s number right there, standing in the middle of the Musain with all of his friends around him. It was terrifying but, when Grantaire answered, he felt relief melt through him like hot water.  
“Hmm?”  
“Grantaire? Where are you?”  
“Hey? Apollo, what do you want?”  
He closed his eyes.  
“Tell me – are you okay?”  
“’course I am – ”  
“You’re drunk.”  
“A tiny bit – are you?”  
“No, Grantaire,” he snapped. “I’m at the meeting. Which you just missed.”  
The artist laughed. “Aw, fuck. Never mind. You won’t have missed me much.”  
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Won’t I? Thanks – I’ll try to remember that. Are you okay?”  
“Why? Worried?”  
“Of course I am.”  
“I’m fine, Apollo – ”  
“Good. Drink some fucking water.”  
He hung up and put his phone away, biting heavily on his lower lip. “He’s pissed,” he explained, looking at Joly. “You should probably check in on him.”  
“I will. Are you okay? You look grey.”  
“I’m fine,” he sighed, turning to go back to Courfeyrac and Combeferre. But then he changed his mind and went to Feuilly an Bahorel, knowing they spent a lot of time with the artist. “Has – Has Grantaire been strange recently?”  
Bahorel snorted. “He’s always been a bit strange – ”  
“Queer, even.”  
“Guys, I’m being serious,” Enjolras sighed. They both stopped laughing and frowned. “Just keep an eye on him, okay? I know he has depression – ”  
“How do you know that? You’ve barely spoken to him since he got here,” Feuilly said, sniffing. Bahorel raised an eyebrow.  
“Except when they’re arguing, Fee.”  
“Good point.”  
“I’ve spoken to him a few times,” Enjolras said quickly. He felt sick again and needed to lie down. “Just keep an eye on him.”  
“Right you are, captain,” Feuilly said, winking and raising his glass to his lips again. That was all he’d get from them so he found Combeferre and told him he was going home.  
He couldn’t help it. He phoned Grantaire as he stepped into the cold air, secretly really worried about him. He’d seen him this low before.  
“Apollo? Didn’t I just talk to you?”  
“You did,” he sighed, kicking the floor. “R, I want to come over and check on you.”  
“Check? I’m not a baby.”  
“No, I know,” he muttered. His chest hurt so he stretched his shoulders back and took a deep breath. “I know, but I would like to see you.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I miss you, R.”  
“I miss you too – but you know seeing each other won’t fix that.”  
Enjolras shook his head. “I want to talk to you properly.”  
“I’m drunk, Enj.”  
“I know.”  
“That doesn’t make you ridiculously angry?”  
He shook his head again. “I just want to see you. I’ve had to see you at least once a week for almost half a year but I’ve never had chance to talk to you.”  
Grantaire sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll warn you, though. It’s not pretty.”  
“I don’t care. What’s your address?”  
He gave it and Enjolras started walking quickly, knowing his city well enough to find even the most obscure of addresses. They spoke the whole time and Grantaire seemed to grow more and more coherent with each exchange until Enjolras had almost forgotten that he’d been drinking.  
“I’m here.”  
The door flew open and Grantaire stood there with his phone in his hand and a bloody tissue in the other.  
“Grantaire – ” Enjolras put his phone away, blinking quickly. “Grantaire, what the hell have you done?”  
“What do you think?” He whispered, backing into the house and letting him in. “I feel like shit.”  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Everything, Apollo. Too much for one evening.”  
“Try anyway.”  
Grantaire sighed and showed his wrist and the new red line that glistened there. “Surprised?”  
“No – ”  
“Disappointed?”  
“A little – ”  
“I’m sorry I’m not perfect, Enjolras – ”  
“No, I’m disappointed that I wasn’t here in time to stop you,” he snapped, shutting the door. “Come on, Grantaire. You know you need to clean it.”  
“I’ll be fine – ”  
“Fuck off – come to the kitchen,” he hissed, taking his other wrist in his hand. “Where is your kitchen?”


	7. 7

They sat there for almost an hour but barely spoke. Enjolras helped clean and cover the new wound and Grantaire thanked him but that was mostly it – until Grantaire sighed and moved to find more wine.

                “No,” Enjolras said sharply, catching his injured wrist as he tried to walk past. He tried to pull free. “No, R – stop.”

                “You can’t change me, Apollo.”

                “But I can help you. Don’t drink any more tonight.”

                “It’s all I have.”

                “You have me,” he said without thinking, cheeks blushing bright to match his lips as soon as the words left him. Feeling sick, he dropped Grantaire’s wrist and got to his feet too. “Even though I’m a jerk.”

                “You are a jerk,” Grantaire agreed, turning away from him. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

                “I wanted to help.”

                “You’ve helped – you can go home now. Well done.”

                “I can’t, R – ”

                “Fuck off.”

                “Grantaire!”

                “I don’t want you here, Apollo,” he snapped, looking back at him again. They were both glaring. “Just go home – I don’t want to see you.”

                “Why not?”

                “Because it _hurts_!”

                Enjolras hung his head and considered leaving but Grantaire had span away and was going to the fridge. “R,” he said weakly. “Don’t.”

                “I’ll do whatever the hell I want – ”

                “Please,” he whispered, very sure he was going to be sick. He wanted to look at Grantaire and smile but he just felt angry. “Please look after yourself.”

                Grantaire just snorted. “Sure. Bye, Apollo.”

                He wasn’t looking at Enjolras and opened the fridge, pulling out a new bottle. He opened it and lifted it to his lips.

                “Grantaire, put that down!”

                He swallowed and turned to face him with a dark grey expression. “No.”

                “You’re unbelievable.”

                “And you’re trying to control me again!”

                “I’m – fuck, Grantaire, I’m trying to help you!”

                “Sure,” he snorted. “Great. Thanks. It’s fucking appreciated.”

                “Stop being an ass!” He stepped closer, heart hammering in his chest. Grantaire just raised an eyebrow and the bottle – “Grantaire!”

                “I’m not trying to impress you any more,” he said quietly, leaning against the side and playing with the bottle top. “I don’t care what you think.”

                “You do,” Enjolras hissed. “Of course you do.”

                “Why the fuck would I?”

                “Because you always used to!”

                “People change, Apollo – ”

                “I fucking know they do. You did!”

                Grantaire rolled his eyes and looked away. “So fucking sue me – ”

                “Why are you being like this?” He snapped, voice cracking with the stress of it all. He was on the very edge of tears but wondered whether he’d throw up first. “Why won’t you get a fucking grip?”

                “I _can’t_ – ”

                “Of course you can! You just can’t be _bothered_ – ”

                “You think everyone has it easy like you – ”

                “You’ve never _wanted_ to be better because it’s too much fucking effort! You’ve never thought about how it effects other people – ”

                “Exactly – I’m a selfish fucking slob – ”

                “Because other people _care_ – ”

                “And I don’t?”

                “ – we care about _you_ – ”

                “Don’t fucking lie, Enjolras – you never cared before.”

                “What do you think I’m doing here now?” He yelled, hands flying to his hair. His skin was damp and Grantaire just took another drink. “I’m trying to help!”

                “And arguing with people helps them feel better, does it?”

                “No – Grantaire, I know it doesn’t. I’m not an idiot.”

                “You are – you think I want you to help me but I don’t.”

                “You don’t want to accept that I’m here – ”

                “Fuck off.”

                “Because you don’t want to admit that you need help – ”

                “I know I need help!” Grantaire bellowed, making Enjolras lean backwards. The artist’s eyes were bloodshot. “I go to fucking counselling every Tuesday and I go to an alcoholics’ support group every fucking Wednesday and I’m on medication and I was in hospital for about two months after we fucking split up. I’m reminded every day that I need help! Everywhere I go I see how much of a failure I am – ”

                “You’re not – ”

                “Shut up. I need help and I’m fucked up and it’s not your job to fix me – ”

                Enjolras shook his head and supported himself on the table. He was going to be sick. He could feel panic filling his lungs and shaking him and Grantaire just didn’t want to listen. “R, please stop.”

                “Why the fuck should I?” Grantaire hissed. “I’m breaking and you think yelling at me is going to help – ”

                “Please,” he whispered, knees shaking. He couldn’t breathe –

                “I’ve been heartbroken over you for _years_ , Enjolras. I missed you every day and I regretted that fucking night – ”

                He pushed away from the table, seeing nothing but what was directly ahead of him as he retraced their steps to the front door. It was the only place he could think of which wouldn’t matter if he was sick and, as soon as the cool air hit him, he doubled over and threw up.

                No sound from Grantaire. Maybe he’d assumed Enjolras had left.

                He was, at once, too hot and too cold. His skin was sticking to his clothes and his heart was trembling like butterfly wings and he – he was sick again, anxiety putting pressure on his brain and making him see blackness.


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped through the last few because of the warnings: Enjolras and Grantaire have argued at Grantaire's house.

He sobbed once and pushed his forehead against the brick wall of Grantaire’s house. Everything was ruined.

                “Enjolras?”

                He sniffed and wiped his face, embarrassed and blushing. He’d been pathetic.

                “Enjolras?”

                “I’m not finished arguing with you,” he muttered, wiping his face again as Grantaire came into view. He was still holding that damn bottle. “Put that _down_ – ”

                “Were you sick?”

                “For fuck’s sake – yes, I was,” he spat. “But that doesn’t matter because I’m not convinced you’re going to be okay so I’m going to phone Joly.”

                “He already told me he was going to come over tonight,” Grantaire said quietly, edging towards him. “He said he’d be here in half an hour.”

                “Great – I’ll get out of your sight by then – ”

                “Why were you sick? Was it the argument?” Grantaire asked him so softly and gently that it brought the tears back to his eyes and they fell, adding to his embarrassment. “Fuck, Enjolras – ”

                “It doesn’t fucking matter. I know I don’t deserve to be near you but you – R, you were horrible too – ”

                “I know I was!”

                “And it’s – I’ve – I’ve struggled the last few months – ”

                “You think I _haven’t_?”

                “I know you have!” He wiped his face again. “I know you have and I know it’s my fucking fault and I know I’m horrible to you but I wanted to try and make it better but you just fucking screamed at me and fucking – you keep fucking drinking just to upset me – ”

                “Not everything is about you!”

                “This is!” He yelled. “This is about us!”

                “There is no us!” Grantaire spat. “And there hasn’t been for years and there won’t be again.”

                Enjolras chewed his tongue. His mouth felt horrible and had the potential to make him sick again. “Never again?” He managed, voice quieter than he’d expected and managing to bring a softness to Grantaire.

                “I don’t think so, no,” he said gently. “Enjolras – ”

                “I wasn’t being nice just because I wanted to get back with you – ”

                Grantaire snorted. “Good. You weren’t being especially nice – ”

                “Fucking hell – I tried, R. I was upset because we were going to talk after the meeting and you didn’t show up – ”

                “I’ve been having a bad night,” he snapped. “A bad week, really.”

                Enjolras felt another sob rise in his throat and looked away. “I know you have. I wanted to help and talk to you like I should have done before.”

                Grantaire seemed to wilt in front of him. “Come back in side,” he said eventually. “Come on. I can’t let you walk home looking like that – someone might do something nasty.”

                “Can we make a deal?” Enjolras said quietly. Grantaire just waited. “No more shouting.”

                “Enj, you shout more than the rest of us put together.”

                “I know,” he sighed, pushing his clean hand through his hair. He was shaking. “But just for now. No shouting.”

                “Is it what made you sick?”

                He took a shuddering breath and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a lot to go into while my chin is still dripping.”

                Grantaire laughed at this and stepped back. “Come on, Apollo. You can use the bathroom and have a wash.”

                “I’m sorry that I’ve been so pathetic – ”

                “It’s okay,” the artist sighed, guiding him through the house. He put his bottle down and used his now free hand to steer Enjolras, resting it lightly on the small of his back. He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll apologise to you properly when I sober up.”

                Enjolras laughed quietly and, when presented with a sink and cold water, felt the relief flood him. He would have responded to that but he needed to wash his mouth out – and his hand. He took a deep breath and all-but submerged his face, trying to cool himself down and find a grounding. Grantaire just waited, leaning in the door way and watching him.

                “Thank you,” Enjolras muttered, taking the warm towel silently handed to him. Feeling significantly better, he raised his head and looked at Grantaire. “Anxiety really went through the roof when we broke up.”

                “Neither of us fared well,” he said gently. “Do you fell less ill?” Enjolras nodded. “Okay. Joly will be here soon – ”

                “Do you promise that you’ll let him help?” Enjolras asked weakly, still hiding behind the towel. “I realise I’m not the right guy to help, but – ”

                “I’ll let him,” Grantaire said. “So you promise you won’t be too angry about this next time I see you?”

                Enjolras nodded and folded the towel, putting it down. “I wish this had gone better. I didn’t want to shout – ”

                “No, neither did I.”

                “I get so scared,” he whispered, thinking he may as well tell him everything. “When I know you’re low again and hurting yourself – ”

                “I’m not your responsibility anymore,” he reminded him, frowning. “It’s none of your business whether I hurt or – ”

                “It is,” Enjolras choked, close to tears again. He swore. “It is because I care what happens to you.”

                Grantaire bit his lip and shrugged. “You never used to.”

                “I know – but I did really – ”

                “Never fucking showed it,” he whispered. “Look, Enjolras – we’re just going to argue about this again. It’s best if you just go home and I’ll get Joly to text you when he’s here so you know I’m not being a jerk.”

                Enjolras took a deep breath and nodded, realising he didn’t have the energy for this. Besides, Joly would be better at helping him. So he walked past Grantaire and down the stairs, back to the front door.

                He hesitated.

                “I don’t hate you,” he said quietly when Grantaire joined him. The artist looked away. “I really don’t. I haven’t hated you for quite a while – I’ve just missed you.”

                “I missed you too,” Grantaire sighed, “but not the arguing.”

                “Me neither.”

                “I thought that just being friends would suit us better.”

                “We’ve barely been friends,” Enjolras snapped. The anger was aimed towards himself. “R, I haven’t given you a chance.”

                “It’s okay – ”

                “It’s not,” he muttered. “I’ll be better. Come to the next meeting, Grantaire.”

                “I’ll try.”

                “Good.” He opened the door, telling himself that Joly was around the corner. “Look after yourself, Grantaire.”

                “And you.”

                Enjolras stepped out into the night and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. He wanted to look back and see Grantaire watching after him but that was silly – he just gritted his teeth and marched off, not glancing back even once.

                It hurt. But Grantaire had said there was no chance of them trying again and, honestly, that had been all he’d been thinking about those last few months. Especially those last few days.

                Joly text him before he got back, reassuring him that he was staying the night with Grantaire and hoped he was okay. So he replied and went straight to bed, trying to not let himself think about the artist any more.

                It was over. It was well over.


	9. 9

The next meeting was at Courfeyrac and Comebferre’s and, again, Enjolras got there early. He just waited downstairs with a cup of coffee and smirked slightly when they walked in, bright faced and tousled. “Courf, your hair’s standing up at the back,” he muttered, making Combeferre snort and Courfeyrac blush.

                “One day,” he muttered, “you’ll be intimate with someone again. And then I can get my own back.”

                Enjolras grinned at this. “I was just doing what any good friend should and letting you know before _everyone_ saw.”

                “Thanks, babe,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair and achieving nothing. Enjolras just laughed, letting Combeferre sort him out and making himself comfortable on the settee while they waited for everyone else.

                Grantaire came. And he didn’t look at Enjolras even once – not to argue or to gaze adoringly like Joly had seen him do so many times in those last few months.

                He left without an argument and Enjolras felt the uneasiness of it all churning his stomach again. So he made sure he found Joly and whispered to him.

                “Is he okay?” He asked, dragging the doctor away from the rest of their friends. Joly frowned.

                “Why?”

                “Because he didn’t – he didn’t argue.”

                Joly laughed and edged closer so he could whisper. “Yeah, he’s okay. Distracted at the moment.”

                “Why?” Enjolras asked, dread filling him. Joly chewed his lip. “Please tell me – I’m worried.”

                “Why do you care?”

                “Because I – I care about him, Joly,” Enjolras sighed. “He’s one of us and that’s important to me. If I can help in any way – ”

                “He’s going on a date tonight,” Joly said, barely moving his lips. “I’m not supposed to say – ”

                “Who with?” Enjolras interrupted, forcing a smile while hating this stranger with every bone in his body. Joly shrugged.

                “Someone he’s met at the gym. It’s a guy.” Enjolras nodded, mouth dry. “He’s liked him for a couple of months and asked him a couple of nights ago. They’re going for a meal and he’s going to let me know in the morning.”

                Enjolras felt the world wobble. “Let you know?”

                “Yeah, like he always does. Whether it was a hit, whether they’re going out again. That sort of thing.”

                Enjolras licked his lips and nodded. Since Grantaire there had been no one – but he should have realised that Grantaire would have moved on. He knew he had – that was part of the reason they’d broken up –

                “Joly, I need to talk to you alone,” he blurted, making the doctor frown. “Can we – can we go upstairs?”

                “Really?” Enjolras nodded. “Okay – lead the way.”

                They slipped away without anyone noticing and Enjolras took him to the spare room, where he sometimes crashed when the thought of going home alone was too much for him. The door hadn’t shut when he started talking.

                “Joly, I know Grantaire. I’ve known him longer than any of you – we were in the same fucking high school and college – ”

                “ _What_?”

                “ – and we – fuck – we dated, Joly,” he whispered, hands shaking. “We dated for a couple of years and it was – it wasn’t perfect.”

                “This is why you always yell at each other?” He asked, taking those hands and pressing them to his lips. Enjolras nodded. “Enj, you should have said and I wouldn’t have tried to convince him to come!”

                “No, I want him to do stuff and take an interest in the world,” he muttered. He sank onto the bed, pulling Joly with him. “I just – you probably should have been told years ago.”

                “Yeah, probably. Why did neither of you mention it to me?”

                “We – we split up messily,” he said. “Keep this to yourself – ”

                “Of course, Enj.”

                “ – we half split up,” he breathed. “We’d been arguing a lot and we said we’d go on a – on a break, I guess. But I missed him and I went to his house and he had someone there but he swore they weren’t – they weren’t doing anything. And that evening he missed a social and I knew – I fucking knew.” Joly gave his hand a squeeze. “I found them back at his house. Fucking.”

                “Enj – ”

                “I hated him,” he whispered, staring at the carpet. “I hated him for finding someone else even faintly attractive because I – I’ve never wanted anything to do with anyone who wasn’t him. I’ve never wanted to love anyone else like that and I did love him, Joly – even though I was harsh with him and impatient and demanding – ”

                “Enj, breathe.”

                He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. “I’ve not stopped loving him since we started going out. I’ve regretted every argument we’ve ever had and I’ll never forgive myself for them. But it – I know about his depression. I know how deep it is and how much control it has over him and I used to try to help him but he didn’t want it and – fuck – I’m so worried about him.”

                Joly gave his hands another squeeze. “That’s a lot for me to take in,” he muttered, “but I will say this. He’s on the up again. He had a bad week but he has one every few months. He hasn’t been _really_ bad in a good couple of years and I make sure he goes to all of his appointments.”

                “Tell me about this new relationship tomorrow,” he said quietly. “I want to know that they’re better than I was.”

                “Enjolras – ”

                “I didn’t deserve him, Joly,” he muttered. “I’ve tried to be better to him since but it hurt so fucking much – and he told me there’s no chance of us happening again, anyway.”

                “Really?”

                “Really.”

                “Huh.”

                “What?”

                “I just – I thought he had a thing for you,” Joly admitted, shrugging. “Maybe I was just picking up the tension from before.”

                Enjolras was bright red and shrugged, too. “Maybe. He’s been quite adamant that he can’t trust me again.”

                “Were you _really_ that bad?”

                “It wasn’t a good relationship, Joly,” he sighed. “It had its good points. But all I can remember is desperately wishing I knew how to make him happy and wondering how it was possible that he cared so much but so little about me.”

                “That’s horrible.”

                “Yeah.”

                “Do Courf and Ferre know?”

                “Of course they do. They knew him back then too.”

                “Wow. And none of you thought to tell me before,” he scolded gently, giving Enjolras a bump with his elbow. “Don’t worry, Enj. Things work out.”

                “That’s optimistic coming from you.”

                “I’ve spent a lot of time with Jehan recently.”

                Enjolras laughed and took a deep breath, standing up and pulling Joly with him. “Maybe I’ll find them when I get downstairs,” he muttered. “It’s been a while.”

                “That’s an excellent idea – woah, wait up,” Joly laughed, catching his other hand when he turned away. Enjolras smiled gently, knowing what was coming. “You were really brave to tell me this, Enj. I’m proud of you – if not for who you were, but for who you’ve become. You’re aware of what’s gone wrong and you’re trying to be better and that’s wonderful and I love you.”

                Enjolras smiled, feeling warmer than he had in days, and freed his hands so he could put his arms around his friend. “I love you, Joly.”

                “Be strong,” he whispered, returning the hug and putting a kiss on his chin. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”


	10. 10

The next morning, when he got a text from Joly, he felt every muscle in his body tense. So he sat with a mug of coffee and read it, being sure to pay attention to each part of it.

_Morning, Enj. I spoke to him and they had a lovely time and both stayed the night at R’s – sorry. I know that’s not what you really wanted to hear. But I’m meeting them tonight so will be able to give you proper feedback. I should say that I’ve only ever met maybe four of his partners – excluding your lovely self – and they all lasted for quite a while. I’m sorry. But if this makes him happy it’s for the best, right? Apparently they share a passion for some 18 th century artist and they spent a lot of the evening talking about them – I can not remember the name. I hope you’re okay. I’m available for talking to until about 12 today but send me a text whenever and I’ll get back when I can. I love you, Enj xx_

Yeah. That really hadn’t been what he’d wanted to hear. And they’d spent the night together – he knew what that meant. Especially if Grantaire wanted Joly to meet them.

                Enjolras cursed everything and finished his coffee before replying, trying to be as generous as he could.

_Morning. Thanks for letting me know, J – it’s appreciated. I guess if they’re both happy it’s good but R’s so complex and multi-layered I wonder if anyone is ever going to really understand and love him enough. Eh. As long as he’s happy at the moment. I’m okay. Have a good day at work – I love you too xx_

He dragged himself through that day at work and then the next, when he finally heard from Grantaire again.

_I’d like to talk to you_

                That was all he sent. So, slightly terrified, Enjolras put his book down and pressed dial.

                “Hello?”

                “R, it’s me.”

                “Fuck. I didn’t think you’d phone – ”

                “Would you rather we text?”

                “No! No, just give me thr – five seconds and I’ll phone you back.”

                “Okay.” He hung up, more than a bit hurt. He’d considered reading again when his phone buzzed. “R, what did you want to say?”

                “Say?” He muttered, settling down on the other side of the phone. “I wanted to talk.”

                “Which usually implies I’ve done something wrong – ”

                “Enjolras, calm the fuck down,” he sighed. “I know we didn’t part especially well last time we spoke – ”

                “You think?”

                “ – but I wanted to try talking to you again,” he muttered. “Even if you are being an arse.”

                “That’s just who I am. I’m horrible, remember?”

                “You aren’t,” Grantaire sighed. “Enjolras, we were just in bad situations. It’s not like that now.”

                “What are you saying?”

                “I’m saying I want to fucking talk to you without it dissolving into an argument!”

                Enjolras managed a laugh and, appreciating the irony, Grantaire joined in. And it was the most beautiful sound either of them had heard in a while.

                Enjolras sighed. “How’s life, Grantaire?”

                The artist snorted. “Life? It’s cruel, Apollo. You know that.”

                “I do.”

                “What’s going on with you?”

                “Nothing – at all. I’m just reading a book and trying to not think about the fact I have a deadline for work on Tuesday.”

                “Oh, shit.”

                “Yeah.”

                “Good luck.”

                “Thanks.”

                An awkward silence. Enjolras couldn’t wait for long and, pinching the bridge of his nose, went for it.

                “R, Joly mentioned that you were going on a date the other night.”

                “Oh.”

                “How – how did that go?”

                Grantaire sighed. “It was fine. I didn’t really want you to know.”

                “Why not?”

                “I didn’t – I thought it would be awkward.”

                “It’s not,” he said quickly. “I want you to be happy.” Grantaire made a disbelieving sound and Enjolras bit his lip. “I want you to be happy, R. Tell me about them.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Of course I am,” he whispered. “Talk to me.”

                He hesitated. “He’s two years older than you are,” he said after a moment. Enjolras closed his eyes. “Taller than me – but that’s not difficult.” Enjolras laughed gently at this. “Um. We met at the gym – you know where I go with Baz and Fee?”

                “Yeah.”

                “He does rowing so he goes to build upper-body strength,” Grantaire mumbled. “But we met on the treadmills. I offered him my towel because I keep spares and he was dripping everywhere.”

                Enjolras cringed but made his voice light. “Oh, romantic.”

                “Shut up,” Grantaire said, laughing. “He’s lovely.”

                “I’m sure he is. What’s his name?”

                “Jaque.”

                “And he’s older, yeah?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Glasses?”

                “Nah.”

                “Eye colour?”

                “Blue – Apollo, do you want me to just send you a photo?”

                He blushed. “You already have photos?”

                “Yeah. Joly met him yesterday – did he say?”

                “Mentioned it.”

                “He made us take a photo. It’s a thing he does whenever he meets one of my partners – he likes to hope that one day he’s going to make a beautiful album for me.”

                Enjolras felt pains in his abdomen and curled up, closing his eyes again. “That’s really nice of him.”

                “Do you want to see?”

                “Yeah, please.”

                “I’ll send it to you after we hang up. Are you seeing anyone?”

                Enjolras contained his sigh and answered casually. “Nah. I haven’t met anyone for a while who I like that much.”

                “That’s a shame. Is it a shame?”

                “Yeah, I guess.”

                “Maybe I’ll be able to set you up with someone.”

                Enjolras actually laughed at this. “Maybe, Grantaire,” he said, pushing his free hand through his hair.

                “What’s your type?”

                He laughed again. “Seriously?”

                “Why not?”

                “Okay.” He thought carefully. “I like dark hair.”

                “Wow. That’s useful.”

                He groaned. “I don’t know – I’ve never really thought about this.”

                “Hmm. Well, I think I know you well enough to know what you won’t like. Is it just guys still?”

                Enjolras wanted to cry because it was just _one_ guy. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I think so.”

                “Cool. I shall report back to you, captain.”

                “Thanks.”

                Grantaire laughed and it was lovely. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

                “Not particularly.”

                “Okay. Is it okay that I like talking to you still?”

                A tear burst free and he took a deep breath, trying to force his voice to stay strong. “Of course. I like it too.”

                “Good. I’ll see you soon, Apollo.”

                “Don’t forget the picture!”

                “Of course not,” he laughed. He must be happy with this new person, Enjolras told himself. If he was happy it was okay. “Goodnight.”

                “Goodnight, R.”

                They hung up and a steady stream of tears fell but he didn’t make a sound. He just curled up tighter, feeling drained, and waited for the promised photograph.

                When it came he felt his heart break a little bit more. Grantaire looked radiant in it and was smiling gently, a little embarrassed, but perfectly. His boyfriend – Jaque – was grinning and he had a gentle jaw with a very short beard. His arm was around Grantaire’s shoulders and they were leaning towards each other and Enjolras turned the screen off quickly, realising that photo was going to haunt him for the rest of the night.


	11. 11

Enjolras met him. It wasn’t on a meeting night – he was walking home from a late night at work and saw them walking in the opposite direction. They were holding hands. They looked happy and they looked lovely together.

                He felt sick and considered walking away but Grantaire had seen him and waved. So he waved back and wandered towards them, hiding his hands deep in his coat pockets and willing himself to find some strength.

                “Enj! This is Jaque – Jaque, Enjolras from the society.”

                Ah. We was from the society. Not his ex. He grinned and held out his hand for Jaque to shake. “Lovely to meet you. You know Grantaire ran off from the end of a meeting to see you?”

                Jaque laughed and it was a good, smooth laugh. “Yeah, Joly said. I met him a few days ago – apparently I pass the first assessment.”

                Enjolras forced another smile and freed his hand. “If Joly approves then so do I. Grantaire looks happy, at the very least.”

                “I _am_ happy,” the artist said, trying to catch Enjolras’s eye. He wouldn’t look at him. “Jaque’s great. We’re just off out for a meal but I was thinking I might drag him along to this week’s meeting – ”

                “Really?” Enjolras interrupted, surprised that Grantaire didn’t realise how much this would hurt him. But Grantaire didn’t know so he forced that smile back onto his face. “That would be brilliant. I’ll see you both there – ”

                “You sure it’s okay?” Grantaire asked gently, almost reaching for him. Ah. He could still read him, just like Enjolras still could, and he’d seen a glimmer of pain. “Enj – ”

                “Of course it’s okay – why wouldn’t it be?” He asked, rolling his eyes at Jaque – who grinned. “The more the merrier. It’s nice to see you getting involved.”

                “Thanks, Enj.”

                “See you soon.”

                “See you.”

                He all-but ran home, heart hammering and head spinning. He hated Jaque but he knew he had no right to. And, logically, he knew that he just hated what Jaque stood for. He meant Grantaire had moved on. He meant Grantaire did not love him anymore.

                Enjolras did what he hadn’t done in years and, on the frenzied walk home, stopped into a newsagents to buy a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He knew it was impulsive and he’d regret it in the morning when he couldn’t get them out of his head but, fuck, he needed some sort of release.


	12. 12

He saw Combeferre the next day and barely managed to hide the cravings from him. Combeferre didn’t mention it, but he saw his fingers drumming more than usual and he could almost smell the cigarettes on him. He’d wait until he was sure before confronting him.

                Unfortunately for Enjolras, it wasn’t long at all until his friends caught him. The next meeting was at the Musain and he smoked as he walked, realising that this was the meeting Grantaire was going to bring Jaque along to. He didn’t want to see either of them and slowed his pace, taking the extra time to finish the cigarette.

                “Enjolras!” Combeferre. He froze, terrified, and realised he couldn’t hide the burning stub. “What the fuck are you doing?”

                “Walking to the Musain,” he muttered, dropping it and turning to face his friend. He was bright red. “What else?”

                “You were holding a cigarette,” Combeferre snapped, taking his hands and making him walk a few steps. The dead end was on the floor and Enjolras _stank_ of smoke. “You’re smoking again.”

                “No – ”

                “What’s happened?”

                “Nothing – Ferre – ”

                “Is it Grantaire?” He whispered, pushing his fingers through Enjolras’s. He held it together for a moment and then, quite suddenly, burst into tears. “Fuck.”

                “He’s – he’s got a boyfriend,” he managed. “He’s happy and he’s moved on so well and I haven’t – I’m never going to – ”

                “That’s nonsense,” he breathed, pulling Enjolras into his chest. “You will, hon. Just give it time.”

                “It’s been five years!”

                “I know, I know,” Combeferre sighed. “I know, Enj. But you’ve got so many more years to go – ”

                “I don’t want them.”

                “Enjolras!”

                He just cried even more, hiding in his friend and vaguely wondering how on earth he was going to present the meeting now.

                “Grantaire isn’t the only thing in your life,” Combeferre muttered. “Your happiness does not depend on him – ”

                “I miss him.”

                “I know. But he’s happy so you have to accept that and move on.”

                “I’m trying to!”

                “By buying cigarettes?”

                “It just happened, Ferre – I didn’t mean to. I was low.”

                “How many do you have left?”

                He blushed. “Two boxes.”

                “You bought a lot? Enj, I got you off them once and I will do again.”

                “I don’t want to quit,” he snapped. “I don’t want to because I want to have a weakness – it’s not just Grantaire who fucking struggles – ”

                “Enjolras,” Combeferre said lowly, stroking his wet cheek. “I know. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I know you stuggle, hon – and I know I have to help you. Come to ours tonight.”

                “I don’t want to be babied – ”

                “Just let me look after you. You’re my best friend in the whole world and it kills me to see you hurting.”

                Enjolras hung his head and pressed his forehead to Combeferre’s chest. “Thank you.”

                “I love you, Enjolras.”

                “I love you too,” he sniffed. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

                “I know, hon.”

                “Can you do most of the talking for me tonight?”

                “Of course. Come on – get inside.” Combeferre kept his arm around Enjolras’s chest, steering him back towards the Musain. Once there, Enjolras ran off to the toilets for a moment to wash his face and Combeferre found Courfeyrac to tell him what had happened.

                When Enjolras returned to the meeting room most of his friends were already there. All of them, actually, except Grantaire. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this but smiled at Jehan and found his seat, waiting for everyone to calm down.

                “Is Grantaire coming?” Combeferre asked after a few minutes, directing this at Joly. The doctor glanced at Enjolras before answering.

                “Yeah. He said he’d be late.”

                “Should we just start, then?” Courfeyrac suggested, hoping to give Enjolras something else to think about. But, as they all put their attention onto Combeferre, they heard a noise outside the door.

                “Are you sure?”

                “Of course,” Grantaire laughed, coming into view with a massive smile. He was towing Jaque. “Guys, this is Jaque. We’ve been dating for like a week but he wanted to come to the society so I’ve dragged him along – so be nice.”

                “Nice to see you again,” Joly said quickly. “Sit down, guys. We were just starting.”

                Jaque was blushing and Enjolras found himself glaring at him. “Sorry to interrupt, everyone.”

                “It’s fine,” Jehan said quickly, bouncing over to them. “We’ll talk properly later but I’m Jehan and Grantaire is the greatest thing in my world.”

                Jaque smiled gently and shook their hand. “He’s told me about you. It’s okay – I know my place.”

                “Sure you fucking do,” Enjolras muttered, eyes dropping to his notebook. And then, louder, “Ferre?”

                “Right – I was just saying I’m going to run this meeting mostly because Enj is feeling ill.” His eyes were still bright red and his nose kept running. “So forgive me if this isn’t as disorganised as some meetings.”

                The meeting went well, mostly. Jaque was interested and put in enough suggestions to sound like he’d always been part of the group – and Enjolras hated it. He hated him for being so great and for having his arm around Grantaire’s waist – that waist which Enjolras had known so well –

                “Enj?” Bahorel hissed, throwing a pen lid at him. He jumped. “Enj, you look like shit. Should you go home?”

                Combeferre and Courfeyrac glanced down at him and shared a look. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Probably.”

                “What’s wrong?” Jehan called from the other side of the table. Enjolras’s expression said that he didn’t want to shout it to everyone so the poet abandoned Grantaire and flew to their friend, elbowing past Courfeyrac to sit delicately on Enjolras’s lap. “Tell me, lovely.”

                “I just feel low, hon,” he whispered, taking the end of their plait between his fingers and playing with it. “Stress is getting to me.”

                “Ugh. That’s awful. Anything in particular?” Enjolras shook his head and let Jehan hug him closing his eyes for a moment. “Let me know, okay?”

                “Thank you, Jehan.”

                “Love you.”

                “I love you too.”

                They pulled apart and Jehan planted a gentle kiss on his forehead, echoing that maybe he should go home. Enjolras was about to agree again when he caught Grantaire looking at him and went pale, turning to face Combeferre.

                “Ferre, I’m going to go,” he whispered. “Don’t let him follow me.”

                “Okay, okay,” he breathed, touching his friend’s cheek. “Take some painkillers and tuck yourself up in bed. Treat yourself to a hot chocolate or something, alright?”

                Everyone heard this last bit and Enjolras managed a gentle smile, whispering thanks to everyone who told him they hoped he was better soon. He didn’t look at Grantaire and left, pulling his jacket tight around himself in an attempt to keep his chest together.

                He lit a cigarette as soon as he stepped into the night air and walked slowly, losing himself in the smoke and his low mood. It was an hour or so until he finally went home and he didn’t even glance at his phone until the morning, when he felt significantly worse and realised he had to pull himself back up.


	13. 13

Joly had text him and it was a good job he’d woken early.

_Darling, I am coming over. You looked awful last night and I know it’s because of R and I’m working at 12 but I’m bringing soup and we’re going to watch cute videos and it’s going to be just us. X_

Grantaire had text him too but he didn’t want to have that conversation so he didn’t even open the message. He just showered and put water in the kettle, getting ready for Joly.

                He wasn’t much more time. They greeted each other with tight hugs and barely let go of each other except when Joly moved to heat the soup. It was a good morning and, when Joly left, Enjolras could honestly say that he felt better.

                Time with his friends always helped.

                But he still felt cripplingly lonely and it wasn’t much longer before he couldn’t resist opening that message from Grantaire.

_Are you okay? You seemed really down last night. I know you, Apollo – and I know you’re probably smoking again. Want to talk about it?_

No. He really didn’t.

                But he pressed dial and waited. And waited and waited –

                Voicemail.

                Hurt, but realising that was illogical, he put his phone down and made himself a cup of coffee. Maybe he’d go for a walk.

                He’d finished the drink when his phone rang and, of course, it was Grantaire. He almost let it ring out but a desperation to hear the artist’s voice made him catch the call on the last ring.

                “R!”

                “Enj, what’s wrong?” He whispered. “You didn’t talk to me at all last night – ”

                “I feel crap.”

                “What sort of crap?”

                He hesitated. “Mentally. I’m just in a bad space – Courf and Ferre know and I saw Joly this morning so I’ll be okay.”

                “ _Are_ you smoking again?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Is it to do with me?”

                “Why, you think my fucking world revolves around you?” He snapped. “No, R, it’s not because of you.”

                “’Kay. I was just asking.”

                “Thanks.”

                “Alright.”

                A moment of silence.

                “I’m sorry I didn’t answer earlier.”

                “It doesn’t matter.”

                “I was – ”

                “I don’t want to know.”

                “Okay,” Grantaire whispered. “I’m going to hang up because you’re being really fucking rude, Enjolras. I wanted to offer help but – ”

                “R – ”

                “But fuck that one because you’re refusing to listen to me. If you want to talk to me don’t bother because I’ve got a new priority now – ”

                “R – ”

                “Have a good day, Enj.”

                He hung up. And Enjolras felt like _dirt_. He hadn’t meant to snap but Grantaire had stepped dangerously close to the truth and he was hurting – he was hurting like their breakup all over again.

                For a few months he’d really thought they’d be able to get back together.

_I’m sorry, Grantaire. I was unnecessarily rude and I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve got a lot going on and I’m so sorry because I don’t want to make you feel bad. Have a good day, R x_

The reply came surprisingly quickly. Maybe Grantaire had been typing something out.

_It’s fine – I expect it now. You too_

No kiss. It was stupid of Enjolras to even have sent one but it hurt – it hurt so much –

                He had to pull himself out of this. He lit a cigarette and found his shoes, keeping his hands busy and away from his hair for a few minutes. He’d go for a walk. He put his earphones in and wrapped up warm, losing himself in the lyrics and the streets of his city. And it would help.

                For a few hours, at least.


	14. 14

_Can we talk?_

Grantaire. Enjolras had just settled down with yet another mug-soup and was well into the process of finding his calmness – he’d cut back down to just five cigarettes a day and felt like maybe he could survive Grantare having a relationship. But he wanted to talk.

                So, like every other time, he pressed dial.

                “R – ”

                “Apollo, are you okay?”

                “Of course I am.”

                “I haven’t heard from you. At all.”

                “I’ve been tired, R,” he muttered, cradling the mug to his chest. “Working. And we have this event on Saturday that I’ve been helping organise for months.”

                “Yeah, I know. Am I still okay to tag along?”

                “Why wouldn’t you be?”

                “I dunno. I feel like I’ve hurt you, Enj – ”

                “Yeah, but it was a long fucking time ago – ”

                “Don’t swear – ”

                “I’m still hurting from it, R,” he snapped. This was a disaster already. “I’m still hurting and every time I see you with – ” He caught himself, groaning internally. But Grantaire wasn’t a fool.

                “Me with Jaque you get horrible flashbacks?” He whispered, finishing the sentence for him. Enjolras just about didn’t cry and nodded.

                “Basically. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy and I’m happy for you both.”

                “But?”

                “But it’s strange for me to see,” he muttered, counting his breaths in his head. “It’s strange because I either think of you being with me or being with – with – ”

                “It’s okay – I understand,” Grantaire said quickly. “You don’t have to say it, Apollo. I’m so sorry that I fucked you up.”

                “I fucked _you_ up,” he mumbled. He was going to have to have another cigarette before going to sleep. “And I’m so sorry about that.”

                “You didn’t know, Enj – ”

                “Of course I did. I was twenty – not ten.”

                “It’s difficult to spot a bad relationship when you’re in one,” Grantaire whispered. “Apollo, it’s okay. It wasn’t just you. We each take the credit for being bad and thoughtless and selfish. And I’m going to regret cheating on you for the rest of my life – ”

                “I regret so much about it,” he whispered, curling up tightly and putting the mug down. He couldn’t face the thought of eating – drinking? – it now. “I wish we could start again.”

                “So do I. But you’ll always be my first love, Apollo. So we’re going to have to start from there.”

                He kept it together for a few seconds. And then he burst into tears, holding the phone away so Grantaire wouldn’t hear how violent they were. He felt himself break and hid his face in the pillow, gasping for breath as the tears ripped through him and Grantaire desperately tried to call him back to the phone.

                “Apollo! Enjolras, please, stop crying – stop crying, lovely – ”

                “I’m not your lovely anymore,” he snapped, wiping his face on the duvet cover. “Remember?”

                “No, I know. But I still care about you like a friend, Apollo.”

                He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. “Okay. I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

                “It’s okay. Apollo, tell me everything that’s wrong. You know I’ll listen.”

                Enjolras wiped his face again. “That’s kind of it, R,” he whispered. “You’ll always be the best person I ever loved.”

                “Apollo – ”

                “I want you to be happy!” He cried, hiding in the duvet. “But I – oh, it hurts, R.”

                “I shouldn’t have come to your society.”

                “No, I want you to come,” he said quickly. “I want you to come because I want to know that you’re okay. I’m just struggling to think that anyone could deserve you.”

                Grantaire sighed. “I can’t break it off with Jaque just because it’s upsetting you.”

                “Christ – Grantaire, of course not!”

                “What do you want me to do?” It was asked gently.

                “Nothing. Just stay the same as always, R – I’ll deal with this. It’s just me being grumpy and jealous because you’ve got someone and I’ve got – I’ve got campaigns and awareness days.”

                Grantaire laughed. “Well, you’ll always have them. And I can always be a friend to you. As long as you stop screaming at me.”

                “I’m trying to.”

                He chuckled and Enjolras could almost feel his hand in his hair. “I know, Apollo. Thank you.”

                He sighed. “Fucking hell. I’m a mess, Grantaire.”

                “You are. And I can’t help but think it’s better for you if I go away.”

                “No!” He cried. “Please, don’t. I like that you’re part of my life again.”

                Grantaire sighed. “Apollo, be honest with me.”

                “Of course.”

                “Did you think there was a chance we could get back together?”

                He instantly felt like he was about to throw up. But he answered quickly. “No.”

                “Good. Because you were so cold with me.”

                “I know I was.”

                “It hurt.”

                “It hurt me, too.”

                “So you’re not jealous because you thought we had a thing?”

                He choked up again. “Nah. I’m honestly just lonely and how fucking pathetic is that?”

                “Quite,” Grantaire admitted, managing to make him laugh a little. “Especially coming from you. Maybe you should get a pet.”

                He hummed. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

                “Are you allowed one in your house?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Oh my god, Apollo – you should definitely have a pet. Someone you can rehearse speeches to.”

                He laughed and rubbed his forehead. “Maybe I will, R. Maybe I will.”

                “I’m picturing you with a dog – some long-legged thing to match you.”

                He laughed again and pressed his lips together. “If I get one I’ll invite you over to meet them.”

                “Yay!”

                He felt his heart ache. “Grantaire, you’re amazing.”

                “Merci.”

                “You’re – you’re such a grumpy little cynic but you can still make me smile. Thank you.”

                “It’s my pleasure, Apollo. Are you feeling better now?”

                “Yeah. Yeah, thank you.”

                “More than welcome. Looking forward to Saturday?”

                “Looking forward to tomorrow – it’s another meeting, R. You both coming?”

                He hesitated. “Maybe. If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind.”

                “I definitely wouldn’t.”

                “Thanks, Apollo.”

                “More than welcome. Is he there now?”

                “Um – yeah.”

                “Can I talk to him?”

                “What?”

                “Please?”

                “Enjolras – really?”

                He shrugged and made himself sit up straight. “Yeah. I haven’t actually spoken to him one-on-one yet.”

                Grantaire hesitated again. “Be nice.”

                There was a long pause and some scuffling and then, replacing Grantaire, was this comparative stranger. “Hello?”

                “Hey, Jaque?”

                “Yeah.”

                “It’s me – it’s Enjolras. I just wanted to have a chat – don’t panic.”

                Jaque laughed nervously. “Sure. What’s up?”

                “Nothing much. How are you finding being with Grantaire?”

                “R? He’s perfect.”

                Yeah, he is, he thought. “Glad you think so,” he said crisply. “Okay. What do you know about his mental health?”

                “Oh, loads. I know it’s shit – your mental health, baby – and he’s got counselling appointments every week and I have to remind him to take his meds. He’s told me and Joly told me so I don’t think they missed anything out.”

                “Good. Do you love him?”

                “Um. Yeah. I think so.”

                “Does he know?”

                “I’m not sure – it’s a bit early.”

                “Make sure you deserve him, alright? Because I know R’s had some shitty relationships in the past. He’s a nice guy – ”

                “He really is.”

                “ – so sometimes people take advantage of that. I hope you try to deserve him.”

                “Bloody hell. Yeah, so do I – I’m going to try to, Enjolras.”

                “Okay. Good. Have I scared you?”

                “A little.”

                He laughed. Good. “Don’t worry. I’m nice really. See you tomorrow?”

                “Probably, yeah. Want to go back to him?”

                More than you could imagine. “Yeah, please.”

                More scuffling. “Enj, he looks terrified. What did you say?”

                “I just warned him that you deserve someone nice and loving because you’ve been through the shit.”

                “Aw, thanks.”

                “So you’re – you’re both staying the night at yours?” He asked, blushing even as he asked. Grantaire chuckled.

                “Yeah. Why? Want to join in?”

                “No – just making sure you’re okay,” he said quickly. “Have a good night, R.”

                “Okay. Promise me you’re feeling alright?”

                “I’m feeling as okay as I have done for a few weeks,” he said. “That’s as good as we’re going to get, I think.”

                “Okay. Look after yourself, Apollo.”

                “And you.”

                “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

                “Yeah. Sleep well, Grantaire.”

                They hesitated. Hung up.

                Enjolras put his phone to one side and lit a cigarette before going to sleep, as expected. And he couldn’t stand the thought of his soup now so he shuffled into the kitchen to dispose of it, telling himself he’d eat more the next day.


	15. 15

“Evening,” Enjolras said as brightly as he could, walking to the other end of the table. He didn’t see the way Grantaire gazed after him – or the way he jumped when Joly nudged him to catch his attention again. He just sat down and flicked through his notes, getting them ready for the meeting.

                Combeferre saw the way the artist stared and had made a mental note of each time he’d caught that expression since the first meeting he’d came to. It was starting to annoy him – especially because Grantaire now had a boyfriend. Why was he still looking at Enjolras like that?

                It didn’t matter because, soon into the meeting, they were bickering with each other again. Enjolras had informed the group that some event was no-longer going ahead because it could be considered insensitive – and Grantaire protested loudly, stating that _any_ of their events could be considered that. They argued, throwing reasons back and forth across the table until someone stepped in.

                Jaque tried. And it pleased Enjolras to see that Grantaire paid him no attention at all. It was only Jehan who could distract them both and they did it by climbing on top of the table and yelling.

                Jehan very rarely raised their voice above a whisper but, in this situation, they were trembling with the force of it and everyone sat back, stunned.

                “That is _enough_!” They yelled. “You two are being disgusting! Neither of you are listening to what the other has to say – Grantaire, it is not Enjolras’s choice. Enjolras, stop assuming you know more than he does. We have a fucking event on tomorrow and we want to show a strong, unified society – not this where it’s a constant battle between you two for who can get the last word! If you can’t have a reasonable discussion without snarling at each other then maybe you should both fucking leave!”

                “Woah,” Feuilly muttered, getting to his feet. “Come here, angel. Don’t burst a vein.”

                “They’re killing me, Fee!”

                “I know, I know, darling – come here,” he whispered. He held his arms out for the poet and they just sighed, sitting down on the edge of the table so they could be cradled. “Are you okay?”

                “I’m okay,” they muttered. “Fucking idiots, Fee.”

                “I know they are.”

                “Why’s R fucking Jaque? We all know that he fucking _pines_ after Enjolras,” they said this so quietly no one but Feuilly could hear, “so why is he being like this?”

                “I don’t know, sweetheart. Just breathe.” Feuilly rubbed their back, glaring at their head over at Enjolras and then at Grantaire. “Have you guys fucking finished?”

                They nodded dumbly, staring at Jehan. Neither of them had ever seen them show quite so much anger.

                “Sorry, Jehan,” Grantaire said first, voice a gentle whisper. Jehan looked up, glaring. “I’m so sorry.”

                “So am I,” Enjolras mumbled. “I’ve been immature.”

                “Just a bit,” Jehan grumbled, hopping to their feet. “But it’s fine. Just stop being nasty to each other because it’s really upsetting.”

                “I’m sorry,” they said at exactly the same time. Jehan smiled at this and sat on Feuilly’s lap, head rested against their shoulder.

                “It’s cool. Carry on.”

                They laughed and shared a look across the table. There would be a phone call that night. Enjolras regained his composure and outlined the plans for the next day, reminding everyone of what they were expected to do and what they had to be aware of.

                And then the meeting was over.

                No one stuck around for very long because it was getting late and they were all excited about the next day. Grantaire smiled timidly at Enjolras just as he was leaving and gave him a small nod – but that could be reassuring or mean he was definitely coming the next day –


	16. 16

_Apollo?_

_I’m here._

_Can we talk?_

He pressed dial and put it onto speaker. There was no one else around and it felt more like Grantaire was there with him if his voice was all around him.

                “Good evening.”

                “Evening, R,” he said, smiling. He wondered whether he could be brave enough to get changed while talking to him. “How are you?”

                “Good thanks. Sorry about yelling.”

                “Oh, so am I. It’s not your fault.”

                “Thank you. Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

                “Of course. Are you?”

                “Oh, you know I am. You know how much I like a good old political event.” Enjolras snorted at this. “Seriously, though, it should be good. I’ve actually kinda missed seeing you at those things.”

                “Really?”

                “Yeah. Your eyes get all fiery and it’s beautiful.”

                “Thanks,” he muttered, blushing. “Is Jaque not there?”

                “Um. No. How did you guess?”

                “You just said I get beautiful sometimes – that’s not exactly what you should be saying to your ex when your boyfriend is around.”

                “True,” he sighed. “But he doesn’t know you’re my ex.”

                “True.”

                “Jehan frightened me earlier.”

                “Oh, bloody hell – me too!”

                “I didn’t know they could shout like that!”

                “Neither did I! Maybe we should send them an apology.”

                “Yeah. Or catch them in a group hug tomorrow morning.”

                Enjolras was grinning. “An excellent idea, R. As soon as we’re all there we’ll pounce.”

                Grantaire laughed at this and Enjolras decided fuck it – he was brave enough to do this. So, as they continued to chatter, he unbuttoned his shirt. He unzipped and dropped his trousers.

                “I should probably go to sleep,” Grantaire said eventually. Enjolras was tucked up in bed by now, having spent a few hilarious moments trying to keep a conversation going while brushing his teeth. “Is that okay?”

                “Of course it is.”

                “Cool. Goodnight, Apollo. I’ll see you in the morning.”

                “Goodnight, R. Sleep well.”

                “You too, lovely.”

                They hesitated, letting that linger in the air. And then, again, they hung up.

                Enjolras dreamt of him.

                It took him longer than usual to get ready in the morning and he ended up having to rush, cursing his dreams and Grantaire and Jaque –

                “Morning, sleepy,” Courfeyrac laughed, messing his hair up. He just glared. “What’s wrong with you, sunshine?”

                “I had a bad night,” he muttered, leaning into his friend for a hug. “Not mental-health-wise. Just didn’t sleep well.”

                “Oh dear,” Courf whispered. “Will you be okay for today?”

                “Yeah. I’ll grab an espresso and I’ll be fine. Who else is here?”

                “Just us and Ferre so far,” Courfeyrac said, rubbing his back. “Want to get coffee now?”

                “Good shout.”

                They walked to a shop together and caught Combeferre on the way, dragging him along too. They had take-away cups (Enjolras had two: an espresso and a latte) and stood next to one of the stalls, waiting for their friends.

                Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were the first to turn up. They barely knew Musichetta but she met them all with hug and smiles and chatted as if they were her best friends. Joly made sure to keep an eye on Enjolras, especially as Grantaire got later and later.

                Feuilly, Bahorel and Jehan. Jehan bounced straight into Enjolras’s arms and kissed his cheek, telling him they hoped he was excited. And, aside from worrying about Grantaire, he almost was. They were talking about the event when Grantaire and Jaque turned up, hand in hand and red faced.

                Enjolras felt his motivation plummet.

                “Sorry we’re late,” Jaque said quietly, aiming it at Joly. “R slept badly.”

                Courfeyrac and Combeferre shared a look.

                “I’m fine, Joly,” Grantaire whispered, tapping the end of his friend’s nose lightly. “What’s the plan?”

                Enjolras fixed him with a glare. “If you’d been listening in the last few meetings you’d know what the plan is.”

                “Don’t argue already,” Jehan sighed. “R, Enj is meeting with the organisers at ten. Ferre’s doing a talk on the importance of AIDs testing at eleven and we’re handing out leaflets beforehand. Then there’s not much – music and mingling – until half one when we’re doing a parade.”

                “Thank you, Jehan,” Grantaire said. “See? That’s all it takes.”

                “I can’t keep repeating myself for you,” Enjolras sighed. “Do we all know what we’re doing, then?”

                A gentle chorus of yeses. Enjolras nodded and finished his latte, taking a moment out to dispose of their empty cups. When he got back there was a new tension in the group but he didn’t understand it – all he could tell was Grantaire and Jaque weren’t holding hands and Joly looked tired already.

                He had to go. The meeting was in a marquee so he waved goodbye to his friends, promising to see them later, and disappeared. He submerged himself in policies and motions and had a brilliant time, managing to leave the conference in time to watch some of Combeferre’s talk. By twelve O’clock he was full to the brim with pride.


	17. 17

“We should visit some stalls,” Jehan said, grabbing Feuilly’s hand and dragging him away. He shot them one last helpless glance before disappearing into the crowd an Bahorel boomed a laugh, saying he should probably keep an eye on them.

                “What do you think?” Bossuet said, nudging Joly with his hip. “Shopping spree?”

                “What else could we possibly need to buy?” He muttered, frowning slightly. But Musichetta pouted so he groaned and leaned in to kiss her, making her smile again. “Fine. Lead the way, my flowers.”

                Courfeyrac and Combeferre, too, had disappeared. So Enjolras was alone with Grantaire and Jaque –

                He tried to slip away.

                “Where are you going?” Grantaire asked, keeping in step with him. He sighed.

                “I thought you two would appreciate some alone time.”

                “Not really, no,” Grantaire muttered. “We argued. I think we’ll just bicker even more if we’re left alone.”

                Enjolras licked his lips and stopped. Jaque was trailing after them, head bowed, and he actually felt sorry for him. “You okay?” He called, forcing a smile. He looked up and shrugged.

                “Yeah. What’s going on?”

                “They’re making banners over by the marquee. I thought we could give some input – ”

                “Good idea,” Jaque said, smiling at Grantaire. “R’s really good at art.”

                “I know,” Enjolras said a little tightly. “I still have some of his posters.”

                Grantaire’s eyes grew. “Really?” He squeaked, knowing that he meant posters from their university days. Enjolras blushed and nodded. “Didn’t know you cared.”

                “Of course I do,” he said a little harshly. “You’re my friend. Want to get painting?”

                “You know me,” the artist said, taking his boyfriend’s hand again. “Come on, lovely.” Enjolras trembled and turned away to walk again. “Do you have any ideas?”

                They spoke behind him for the rest of the walk and then, at the stall, stuck together like they’d been glued. Enjolras helped for just a minute and then slipped away, realising that whatever they’d argued about that morning had been insignificant compared to creating things together. Which was good. It meant Grantaire was going to be happy.

                He stood by the STI testing tent, offering merchandise and leaflets to passers-by. He managed to do this for over half an hour before drifting towards the stalls, spending a reasonable amount on keyrings and badges.

                Parade time. He was supposed to be walking with his friends as a society but it took him twenty minutes to see them – and then, when he did, his heart flew and broke in one. They had a banner – evidently just made by Grantaire – and he was there with paint on his face and his arm around Jaque’s waist. Joly was on Bahorel’s shoulders, his legs aching too much to do the walk, too, and was waving a flag. Bossuet and Musichetta had matching face paint and Feuilly and Jehan were helping carry the banner with Courfeyrac and Combeferre –

                He was so proud of them. And he loved them all so much. Before they could see him and drag him into their group he pulled his phone out and took a picture, wanting them to be able to remember this day.

                Combeferre saw him and split from the group, beaming at him. “You okay?” He asked, a little breathless. Enjolras nodded and closed his eyes, smiling gently, as his friend painted a few quick stripes across his cheeks. “Good day?”

                “So far,” he whispered. “I’m going to sleep well tonight.”

                Combeferre laughed and gave him a tight hug before dragging him to their friends, throwing him into the middle of the banner and dropping a sharp kiss on his cheek.


	18. 18

“R and Jaque have slipped away,” Courfeyrac whispered, slipping his arm around Enjolras’s waist. “They looked unhappy. Did they argue when you were with them?”

                “I was barely with them,” he muttered. The whole event was coming to an end now, anyway. “Should we make Joly go to them?”

                “He’s hurting, Enj.”

                “Oh. Shit. Okay, I’ll go,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Do you know which direction they went in?”

                Courfeyrac pointed so Enjolras took off, promising to text when he knew what was going on. Joly _et al_ were almost definitely going straight home but Courfeyrac and Combeferre would hang around for a while yet.

                It took him maybe three minutes. And he didn’t find Jaque – he found Grantaire. He was red faced and looked tired and, when he saw Enjolras, blushed even more.

                “What do you want, Apollo?” He sighed, pushing his hand into this hair. Enjolras frowned.

                “I was checking on you. Are you okay?”

                “Yeah – ”

                “Courf said you and  Jaque looked like you were upset.”

                Grantaire swallowed tightly and shrugged. “We’re okay. He’s gone home for now but I’m going over when I’m done here and we’re having a quiet night in.”

                Enjolras nodded. “What did you argue about?”

                Grantaire sighed and glanced up at him. “Don’t tell anyone, Enj,” he whispered, “but we’ve been rocky from the start. I like him a lot, yeah, but I know he doesn’t have any patience with me. He says he’s okay with my depression and he’ll help but it’s peaking again and he got upset when I asked for last night alone.”

                Enjolras _hated_ him. “But you just needed a bit of space,” he muttered. “Surely he could understand that?”

                “Nope. He thought we’d fallen out – so we _have_ fallen out.”

                “That’s difficult,” Enjolras said quietly. “Are you sticking around for a bit?”

                “Yeah,” Grantaire said, taking a deep breath and looking at him again. “May as well. I like the atmosphere here.”

                Enjolras smiled and almost took his hand. But he wasn’t allowed. Instead, he took a half step in one direction and glanced back at the artist. “Let’s have a wander. I’m guessing you did the banner.”

                Grantaire laughed and stepped with him. “Yeah, I did. Did you like it?”

                “I loved it, R,” he sighed. “Of course I did.”

                “Do you really have some of my old posters?”

                “Yeah,” he said, smiling tightly. His chest hurt again. “I love them.”

                “Don’t they make you remember all the shit we did?”

                Enjolras caught his wrist and made him stop walking for a moment. “No,” he whispered. “The more I think back on then the more good things I remember.”

                Grantaire smiled a little and met his gaze. “We had some really good days.”

                “Sometimes they were good months, R. The arguments weren’t that frequent.”

                The artist blinked and looked down. “But they were too much. We can still have good days though, right?”

                “Apparently, yeah.” Enjolras accidentally felt hopeful. “Today is a good day.”

                Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Except for my massive fall out with my boyfriend.”

                “Okay, yeah, that sucks,” Enjolras said quickly. “What does he like? You could buy him an apology present.”

                “Apology? He’s the one who’s being an idiot, Enj. Not me.”

                “Okay – okay,” he laughed. “Good. I’m glad you’re not feeling guilty. I think I always managed to make you feel guilty and that sucked.”

                “It did,” Grantaire agreed, freeing his hand but elbowing him. “Come on, then. What do you want to do?”

                Oh no. “I’m actually getting really tired,” he admitted. “I barely slept.”

                “Me, neither.”

                “R, is it okay that we have late-night phonecalls?”

                The artist took a deep breath but kept walking. “I think so,” he said. “I can understand why Jaque might get upset by it but he doesn’t know that we dated so it’s not so bad.”

                Enjolras felt uneasy at this but nodded, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Good. I like them.”

                “So do I.”

                “I’m trying to be nicer to you, R,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for shouting at you this morning.”

                “It’s okay. You were tense – I get it.”

                He hung his head and was about to say something when, far to their right, they heard what sounded like a scream. They shared a look and walked in that direction, hoping it was just someone messing about. But it came again –

                They were near a park and someone who’d been involved with the event had tried to cross it, presumably to get home. They couldn’t have been much older than sixteen and another group of teenagers had set on them and, when Enjolras and Grantaire had got there, the victim was on the floor trying to cover their face.

                “You’re a fucking _dike_ – ”

                Grantaire shoved people away, pushing them over and getting in their faces while Enjolras edged through to stand over the victim. They were crying and Enjolras could see blood and he was going to just yell – but someone threw a fist at him and caught his jaw.

                He swore and blinked with the pain but punched them back, fist colliding with their nose and making them stagger. Grantaire was having a similar fight. But he was faring better and, between them, they forced the attackers away.

                Breathing heavily, Enjolras knelt down to help the victim. They were sobbing.

                “Hey, it’s okay. Can you hear me? I’m here to help.” They nodded and kept their face covered, sitting up. “Careful. Did they hurt your head?”

                “Just my – just my face,” they sniffed, moving their hand and releasing a flood of blood. They went pale and, acting quickly, Enjolras produced a pack of tissues and pressed one along the cut over their cheek and gave them the rest of their nose.

                “R, call an ambulance.”

                But he glanced up and the artist was already on the phone, keeping a watchful eye around them. He found himself smiling, despite everything, and put his attention back on the girl.

                “My name’s Enjolras and this is Grantaire,” he said gently. “We’re getting an ambulance to you because I’m worried you might have internal bleeding. Do you know who any of them were?”

                She nodded. “They go to my school.”

                “Okay. When the ambulance gets here we’ll tell them that it’s a hate crime and they’ll file a report for you – we’ll get them in a shit tone of trouble, don’t worry. Can you tell me your name?”

                “Emily,” she sniffed, squinting at the tissue she was holding. Her nose was still bleeding heavily. “Were you at the event?”

                “Yeah, we were.”

                “I’m sorry that you had to leave – ”

                “Hey, don’t be silly,” Enjolras whispered. “We came to help you. It’s not your fault. Have you been to any of these things before?” She shook her head. “I hope this doesn’t put you off them. We do safety groups so people don’t have to walk home alone – ”

                “Are you saying I was stupid?”

                “No!” He glanced up at Grantaire for help. The artist sighed and crouched down, too.

                “He’s just not very good at this. He means you don’t have to be scared for next time and you shouldn’t let being scared of being alone put you off coming to these things.”

                She nodded. “Thanks.”


	19. 19

Enjolras kept talking gently to her until the ambulance crew arrived. They said they’d take her to the hospital, where he parents could collect her from, and told Enjolras to put something cold on his jaw. They left, after giving the young girl a reassuring hug each, and didn’t realise until they were almost back that they’d taken each other’s hands.

                Enjolras realised first and groaned, trying to tear his away. But Grantaire stopped them from walking any further and put his free hand on the side of Enjolras’s face –

                “Are you okay?” He asked gently, frowning. He licked his lips and nodded, trying to hide how much he desperately wanted to kiss the artist. “They made you bleed, lovely.”

                “I’ll be fine – paramedic said so,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

                “Yeah. That was pretty intense, wasn’t it?”

                Enjolras just stared at him and he stared right back.

                There weren’t many people around. And they were _behind_ the shops, a brick wall just a couple of feet behind Grantaire –

                Enjolras closed his eyes and leaned down so their foreheads were touching and he could feel Grantaire’s breath on his face. The artist gasped, fingers slipping into Enjolras’s hair, and edged backwards. Enjolras’s free hand went to his waist and he kissed him, pushing him back into the wall and tasting his tongue.

                Grantaire gasped and knotted his fingers through his hair, holding him close. It had been years but they pressed together like it was something they did every day and breathed the smell of each other’s skin and tightened their hold on each other’s hands –

                “Enjolras,” Grantaire whispered, pulling away for a moment. Enjolras was panting, head spinning and chest heaving. “Enjolras – ”

                He kissed him again, barely holding back and crushing to him. His hand on his waist moved to his hip and held them there, just as Grantaire’s slipped to hook around his neck. They kissed for minutes – until their faces hurt from more than just the fight and they couldn’t see straight because they’d forgotten to breathe.

                They finally broke apart and stood there for a while, foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. They were both gasping and trying to understand what had just happened when a noise made them jump.

                It was Grantaire’s phone.

                Face red with guilt, he turned away from Enjolras and answered. “Hey, Jaque,” he said, making tears burst to Enjolras’s eyes. What had they done? “Yeah, I’m just finishing off. Some kid was being beat up so I went with a bunch of people to help them. I’m okay, yeah. Are you alright? Good. I’ll be back in under an hour. I’m okay, I promise. Alright. I love you too.”

                He hung up and looked at Enjolras, frowning. They didn’t speak for a moment.

                “Sorry about that,” Enjolras managed, breathing deeply. “I think it’s best if we don’t tell anyone.”

                Grantaire closed his eyes. “I won’t tell him,” he whispered, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. Don’t feel bad about it, Apollo. It was both of us.”

                He nodded and took a deep breath, looking away. “We should go, R,” he whispered. “Um – ”

                “Come here, Apollo,” he said gently, holding his arms out. Knowing that this was a stupid idea, Enjolras stepped into his embrace and locked his arms around his waist for the first time properly in so long. “It’s okay,” he whispered, voice muffled by Enjolras’s shoulder. “We were both a bit wired. That’s all. And it makes sense that we’d move to each other – we have history. It was just a heat of the moment thing – I know. You don’t owe me anything.”

                Enjolras wanted to cry but he had to control himself so he could find Combeferre. “Exactly,” he muttered. “That’s all it was.”

                “You okay?”

                “Yeah. Are you?”

                “Yeah.”

                They held each other for a moment more, neither of them wanting to admit how much they were enjoying this contact, and then broke away. They almost held hands again but noticed just in time and just walked, forcing themselves to have a normal conversation so no one would suspect anything.


	20. 20

Combeferre took one look at Enjolras and flew to him. “What the fuck happened?” He hissed, touching his jaw lightly. “You were supposed to text me, Enj – ”

                “A girl was being beat up,” he muttered, wincing as Combeferre touched his jawbone. “Ouch, Ferre!”

                “We got paramedics for her and they checked him out, too,” Grantaire said, reassuring Combeferre somewhat. “They just said to put something cold on it to help the swelling.”

                Combeferre nodded. “Okay. Let’s go home – R, do you want to walk with us?”

                He shrugged but fell into step, walking beside Enjolras almost too closely. It was getting too much for them both and they caught each other’s hands for just a moment.

                Enjolras quickly lit a cigarette after that, earning a telling off from all three of his friends but just shrugging it off. “I’m in pain,” he muttered. “Give me some slack.”

                Grantaire gave Enjolras a hug just before opening his door, earning a raised eyebrow from both Courfeyrac and Combeferre. But he ignored them and gave Enjolras a tiny smile, which he returned, before disappearing.

                Combeferre shook him gently. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

                “What do you mean?” He muttered, blinking and trying to look away. Combeferre shook him again. “Hey!”

                “Your eyes are fucking massive and your lips are bright red and your hair is a mess – did you and R fuck?”

                “No!” He cried, stepping back and fishing for another cigarette. Combeferre sighed sharply. “No. But we were in a fight – we told you. We’re both okay.”

                “Enjolras.”

                “What?”

                “That doesn’t explain this,” he snapped, touching Enjolras’s lower lip with his fingertip. “You’re blushing, Enjolras.”

                He shook his head and lit the cigarette, looking away again. “We didn’t fuck,” he snapped. “We kissed but we’re not telling anyone – ”

                “He has a boyfriend!”

                “I know!” Enjolras yelled, stepping away. Combeferre frowned and Courfeyrac took his hand. “I know he fucking does, Ferre – he has done for weeks and it’s killing me!”

                “I thought you hated him – ”

                “I’m still fucking in love!” Tears burst from his eyes again and he turned away, lifting the cigarette for a moment. “I still love him and he broke my heart but he’s with someone now and they’re happy so I have to be happy for him.”

                “Fuck, Enjolras – ”

                “Please let it go,” he whispered, facing them again and taking a deep breath. “He doesn’t know I still love him and I’d rather he didn’t. I want him to be happy and carry on with his life.”

                “I understand,” Courfeyrac said quickly, taking Enjolras’s free hand. “Hey. Let’s get you home and get you some ice-cream.”

                “Sounds perfect, thanks, Courf,” he whispered, leaning into his friends. He was still holding the cigarette. “I’m sorry for shouting.”

                “It’s okay, silly,” Combeferre sighed. “I hadn’t realised you still felt like that.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “What can we do?”

                “Feed me ice-cream,” he muttered, making Courfeyrac laugh. “I’d like to stay at yours tonight.”

                “Of course.”

                “R suggested that I get a dog,” he said as they started walking. “I think that might be a brilliant idea. Because I’m not going to fall in love with anyone else – ”

                “There’s time – ”

                “It’s been nearly six years, Courf.”

                “Oh.”

                “And I still only love him.”

                “Even though you _caught_ him?” Combeferre asked, one eyebrow raised. Enjolras nodded. “Wow. You’re crazy.”

                “Oh, I know.”

                “I think a dog is a good idea,” Courfeyrac said. “We could do a preliminary scan of the shelters when we get in.”

                Enjolras smiled at this and let them look after him for the evening. He stayed with them the whole of the next day and hadn’t spoken to Grantaire once since saying goodbye.

                He was thinking about other things. Specifically, a mixed-breed called Benvolio.

                After talking about it in some depth with Combeferre and Courfeyrac he phoned the shelter, explaining that he lived alone and intended to for some time and would love a canine companion. They asked if he had any specific requirements and he admitted that, no, there were none – but he worked six hour days and had liked the look of Benvolio on the website. He arranged to visit the next day after work and could barely contain his excitement until the time came, when he and Courfeyrac drove to the shelter and visited the dogs.

                He fell in love.

                Benvolio was almost Labrador sized, with long hair and a narrower muzzle. He was a dappled brown colour, as if there was terrier in him, and stared at Enjolras with a wagging tail until given permission to come forward for fuss.

                He would have sat there all day with him but the shelter wanted to make an assessment of his home, first. So he arranged a date for them to come and visit, promised Benvolio he’d be back soon, and tore himself away.

                Courfeyrac was almost as excited as he was.

                They didn’t mention it to anyone else, just as Enjolras and Grantaire didn’t mention the kiss again. The next few meetings were as every other had been – they mostly didn’t talk to each other except to bicker. And it hurt Enjolras but he realised it was for the best. Grantaire seemed to have fixed the problem with Jaque and they were both loving and doting –


	21. 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half way! If you're still reading; Thank you.

He got a text part way through a day at work saying he’d passed approval and was allowed to adopt Benvolio. He could arrange a meeting at the shelter for that afternoon, if he wished.

                Which he did.

                And he remembered that he’d promised to tell Grantaire.

                So, when he and Benvolio were settled in, he sent him a text.

_I have someone who wants to meet you._

                It took a while for the response to come but it was fine – it meant he could spend more time talking with his dog. Who had decided it was completely fine to lie across Enjolras’s lap as he sat on the settee – despite his size. Enjolras didn’t care. He quite appreciated the warmth.

_WHAT I have a feeling about this but I can’t come and meet them until at least tomorrow_ _L sorry, Apollo. What’s their name?_

_That’s fine. Ben._

_Aw. Is it okay if I come over tomorrow?_

_Of course it is. Are you okay?_

_Yay! I am, thanks. Are you?_

_Yeah. I feel happier than I have for a while_

_Oh my god I KNEW you just needed a dog. Everyone needs pets, Apollo._

_Thank you. What are you doing tonight?_

_Um. Jaque, probably. You?_

He shivered at this, making Benvolio look up. He’d explain everything to the dog at some point, no doubt, but for now he just sighed and replied.

_Wow. Bonding with my new friend – I might make him watch documentaries with me._

_I’m sure he’ll love that_

                Enjolras spent the rest of the evening talking to and playing with his dog, trying to teach him where to go to the toilet when Enjolras was out and breaking his own heart when he locked him away for the night. The people at the shelter had suggested this and, as much as it hurt to hear Benvolio whimpering, he knew they’d eventually be grateful for their own space.

                He got up extra early to take him for a walk, giving him a chance to toilet and burn off some energy before being locked downstairs for six hours. He promised he’d be home soon and left, more excited than he wanted to admit about seeing Grantaire that evening.

                The day couldn’t go fast enough. And, at half past six, he got a text from Grantaire.

_Apollo?_

_Hey_

_Can we talk quickly?_

Feeling terrified, he pressed dial and raised the phone to his ear. This was new for Benvolio and he stared, watching while his new owned spoke to apparently no one.

                “R?”

                “Hey, Apollo.”

                “Are you okay?”

                “Yeah. I just wanted to hear you saying it’s okay for me to come over.”

                “It’s okay for you to come over,” he said quickly, holding out his hand for Benvolio. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

                “Sure?”

                “Sure.”

                “Okay. Thanks.”

                “Are you okay, R?”

                “Yeah.”

                “I’m not convinced.”

                “I just – I’m tired. I’ll tell you when I see you. Am I okay to come over now?”

                “Of course you are.”

                “Awesome. See you soon, Apollo.”

                “See you soon.”

                They hung up and Enjolras put his eyes on Benvolio’s. “Right,” he said gently. “R loves dogs and he’s going to love you but you have to let him know I didn’t get you just because I want to see him more often. I got you because I’m convinced we’re perfect for each other and even though I love R more than the world I need to take responsibility for my own life and happiness and – and you’re my companion now. So be lovely to him but not _too_ lovely, alright?”

                The dog blinked. Enjolras groaned and lay back on the settee, closing his eyes. In the time it took him to doubt the sensibility of inviting Grantaire over, Benvolio had leapt up onto the settee and lay alongside him with his nose pressed into his ear.

                He laughed and scruffed the dog’s ears, sure that he, at least, was a good choice.


	22. 22

The doorbell rang and the dog leapt up, glancing from the source of the sound and back to his owner. This was his first visitor and Enjolras started to worry. “Sit,” he said, making eye contact with his dog. He sat. “Stay.”

                On his walk to the door he refused to let himself glance back and just strained his ears for any sign that he was being followed. But, even as he opened the door, he heard nothing.

                It was a relief to see Grantaire again. Even though he looked tired.

                “Hey, Apollo,” he said, peering into the house. “Can I come in?”

                “Yeah – sorry if he jumps,” Enjolras said quickly, backing away and glancing at his dog. Who, recognising that this was a friend, got to his feet and trotted over to greet them. “Ben, sit.”

                He did, but just for a moment. But Grantaire grinned and stroked him between the ears and he leapt to his feet again, tail wagging and mouth hanging open. “Hello, gorgeous,” Grantaire said gently, kneeling down to be on the same level as the dog – who proceeded to lick the side of his face. Enjolras was nervous but he laughed and ran his fingertips through the longer fur on Ben’s neck, complimenting him in a childish voice and very slowly inching into the living room.

                “You could go and sit on a chair if you want,” Enjolras suggested after a while, feeling a little out of place. Grantaire laughed and got to his feet, wiping his face on his sleeve and stepping out of the way.

                “Sorry, Apollo. Lead the way.”

                He laughed and went through, sitting back in his usual seat. And, as usual, Benvolio invited himself onto the settee to sit across his lap. Grantaire grinned at them both and sat on the other settee giving them space.

                “Where’s he from?” He asked after a very short moment. Enjolras smiled, just glad to see the artist, and spoke with his hand on Benvolio’s shoulder.

                “There’s a shelter about half an hour from here. Courf, Ferre and I did some googling and he was the best one I saw so we phoned and asked to see him. It took them all week to decide I was suitable but,” he shrugged, “apparently I meet approval.”

                Grantaire smiled fondly. “Of course you do. More to the point, I approve of Ben to look after you.”

                “Thanks, R.”

                “Does he sleep downstairs?”

                “Yeah,” he sighed. “They thought it was best. So I lock him down here in a cage.”

                “Ahw. When did you get him?”

                “Yesterday,” he said, grinning. “He’s settle in well.”

                “He has!”

                “I’m not sure why it took me so long to get a dog, if I’m honest,” Enjolras admitted. “I love him.”

                “I’m so glad,” Grantaire said, making sure he remembered how comfortable Enjolras looked at that moment. “You look so happy, Apollo.”

                “Thanks.” A moment of awkward silence. “You sounded sad earlier.” Grantaire hung his head. “Tell me what’s going on, R.”

                He sighed and shrugged. “I just don’t know what to do.”

                “What about?”

                “Jaque,” he said, rather unexpectedly. “It’s nearly Christmas. I’m not sure I want this relationship to continue – ”

                “ _What_?”

                “I’m just thinking things through at the moment,” he said quickly. “I’m still not sure. Not really. But it’s not _easy_ being with him and I know he’s starting to struggle with me and I don’t think it’s fair on us to draw this out longer. But I don’t want to hurt him.”

                Enjolras licked his lips. “If you’re thinking you want to break up with him you should do it, R,” he said quietly. “Drawing it out will hurt him more.”

                He groaned. “I know. But part of me really still wants this to work.”

                Enjolras nodded. “I know what you mean. Talk to Joly about it. He’s always good at this kind of thing.”

                Grantaire nodded. “Thanks. I forget – have you had any relationships recently?”

                Enjolras thought he’d be sick. “No, R,” he said. “It’s just been you.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah.”

                There was a deep silence.

                “That kiss – ”

                “I shouldn’t have done it,” Enjolras said quickly “I’m sorry, R.”

                He hung his head and shook it. “I was going to say thank you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for almost a year.”

                Enjolras’s eyes grew and he moved Benvolio, telling him gently to go to bed. Fully obedient, the dog wandered off without a backwards glance.

                “What do you mean?” He asked, leaning forward. Grantaire bit his lip and looked away. “You mean it was okay?”

                “Of course it wasn’t – I’m in a relationship,” Grantaire hissed, cheeks pink. “It doesn’t matter.”

                “You _wanted_ to kiss me?”

                He sighed sharply and stood up. “I’ve never stopped wanting to kiss you, Apollo,” he hissed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that we are _bad_ together and can’t do that again.”

                “Grantaire,” he breathed, standing up too and stepping towards the artist. His heart was thundering and the optimistic part of him gave him ill-guided confidence. “What if we tried?”

                Grantaire closed his eyes and shook his head. “It won’t work out. It didn’t before and it won’t now – ”

                “But we’ve both changed – ”

                “And I’m in love with Jaque!” He shouted, making Enjolras draw back. Within seconds Benvolio was there, seeing what was wrong. So Grantaire lowered his voice. “I want it to work with him, Apollo.”

                “Then stop calling me Apollo,” he snapped, hand going to touch Ben’s muzzle to keep him calm. “If you really hate me that much stop acting like you could ever care.”

                Grantaire just shook his head and walked to the door. “I do care,” he hissed, hand on the lock. “And that’s the problem.”

                “How is it a problem?”

                “Because you don’t care! And you never have!”


	23. 23

Benvolio stood up, ears pressed back to his skull. So, shooting a look at Grantaire, Enjolras soothed him and took him into the kitchen and shut the door. When he got back the artist was standing with his forehead pressed against the front door, eyes closed.

                “I care about you, R. Let’s say I don’t care enough to be in a relationship – but I definitely care enough to want to be your friend. Care enough about me to be my friend and we’ll be okay. We’ll forget that we ever touched because, honestly, R, it’s killing me.”

                “Why would it be hurting you?” He hissed, eyes still closed. “You never loved me – ”

                Enjolras slipped his arms around him, pulling him away from the door and making him hide his face in his shoulder. Grantaire resisted for a moment but Enjolras was too familiar and too beautiful and being too gentle and he grabbed the front of his shirt, begging him to never let go.

                “I did, R,” he whispered, leaning so his nose was touching the artist’s shoulder. “I was in love with you and you meant the world to me. I loved you so much it blinded me to everything else and I hurt us – I hurt you so badly because I didn’t understand how to love you and the world at the same time.”

                Grantaire just about didn’t cry. He moved one hand so it was cupping Enjolras’s waist, instead, and breathed deeply. “I wish I’d believed you before.”

                Enjolras pressed his face right into his shoulder. “So do I.”

                They just held each other for a while. It was comforting and exactly what each of them needed – except, of course, Grantaire still wanted to be with Jaque. This upset Enjolras and made him frown and the silence got so dense that he had to ask.

                “Why do you love him?” He whispered, ears ringing. Grantaire kept a tight hold on him.

                “He’s gentle with me. We’ve argued maybe twice and it’s about something he’s working on – he’s getting better all the time. He’s determined to improve for me and he has – even Joly has said how much better he’s got at looking after my depression.”

                Enjolras nodded. “I wish you’d let me help you.”

                “Apollo – ”

                “I wish I’d been better for you,” he whispered, eyes closed tight. “I wish I’d helped instead of make it worse – ”

                “Please, Apollo,” he whispered, arm slipping right around his back. “Don’t do this. Don’t blame yourself.”

                “But it’s my fault – ”

                “I don’t care. I forgive you – you should forgive yourself, too. It’s okay.”

                “It’s not.”

                “Why not? I’m okay now, Enjolras,” Grantaire kept his voice as gentle as he could. “I’m okay. I’m happy.”

                Enjolras shook his head and kept clinging to him.

                “Why isn’t it okay?”

                “Because I lost you forever,” he said, trying to pull away when tears fell. He groaned. “I lost you and I just want – I just want you to be happy.”

                Grantaire pulled a sad face because he thought he knew what Enjolras meant. And he wished he loved Jaque a little less because, if Enjolras really did still love him –

                His phone rang so, keeping one arm around Enjolras’s waist, he answered. It was Jaque.

                “Hey, lovely.” He told himself he’d imagined the way Enjolras jolted. “You okay?”

                “Yeah. Any idea how long you’re going to be?”

                “Not too long.”

                “Cool – I have a surprise for you when you get home.”

                “Oh?”

                “Yep.”

                “You’re teasing me, now.”

                “Maybe I want you to hurry home.”

                He frowned. “You knew I was going to see Enj – ”

                “No, I know and that’s completely fine I want you to have fun – I just miss you. I haven’t seen you all day.”

                Grantaire sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, Jaque. I’ll be back soon.”

                “Okay. I want to make it up to you for being grumpy this week.”

                He laughed. “You don’t owe me anything.”

                “I think I do. It’s been almost a week since we’ve spent time together.” Grantaire shivered and regretted holding Enjolras so close. “I just want to spend a few hours in bed together.”

                He tried to keep the lust out of his voice. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “You can show me what you want to do then.”

                He hung up quickly, incredibly conflicted. Because he loved that he could feel Enjolras in his arms but Jaque was waiting for him – Jaque was –

                “Do you have to go?” Enjolras whispered, voice low and rough from the tears. Grantaire groaned and, instead of stepping back like he should have, hid his face back in his neck.

                “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m sorry that I ruined our conversation.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “By shouting.”

                “Oh, Grantaire,” he said, managing a chuckle. “I can cope with you shouting at me a few times. I deserve it. And we’re both going to be okay because we’re going to be friendly to each other.”

                Grantaire nodded and licked his lips. Thinking about his night with Jaque was making it very difficult to ignore how beautiful Enjolras when he leaned back and saw how bright his eyes and lips were.

                They stared at each other.

                “Friends,” Grantaire echoed, swallowing tightly and dropping his eyes – but down to Enjolras’s lips. “Enjolras, I couldn’t be in a relationship with you again. You know – you know that.”

                “I know,” those lips murmured. “I don’t deserve you.”

                It was too much. Grantaire crushed them together and reached up to kiss him again because his teeth had touched his lower lip and he wanted to feel those teeth and those lips –

                “R,” he gasped, putting some distance between them. The artist closed his eyes, shame washing through him. “Grantaire, you’re going home to Jaque – ”

                “He won’t know,” he murmured, opening his eyes to see how massive Enjolras’s were. “He won’t know and I don’t care.”

                Enjolras shook his head but didn’t move any further away. They were still pressed together from the chest down. “You love him. You can’t hurt him like this.”

                “I loved you more and I hurt you more than this,” he countered. “I loved you more than I’ll ever love anyone again and I ruined it by cheating on you – what makes you think I’d be loyal to someone I cared _less_ about? What makes you think I’m a decent enough person to care?”

                _This was so wrong_. But Enjolras kissed him again, giving in to the little moan that lay at the back of his throat and begged to be able to taste Grantaire. They kissed, touching tongues to lips and teeth and throwing everything to the wind. They kissed and tied their arms around each other, moving so Grantaire was pressed against the door.

                They just kissed, but it meant so much to them. “I expect nothing from you,” Enjolras murmured as soon as he got the chance. “Go back to Jaque and love him. Kiss him and screw him – I don’t care. Just don’t tell anyone – ”

                “Of course I won’t.”

                “ – and, R – ” he gasped “ – R, don’t hate me for this.”

                He groaned and ran his hand down his side. “Never. I don’t hate you, Apollo.” They kissed again. “I don’t hate you. I missed your lips.”

                Enjolras whimpered and kissed him again, pressing him right against the door. They could both feel everything and it was maddening – especially because his head kept killing with memories from all those years ago. He moved his hands to Grantaire’s head so he wouldn’t be tempted to do anything terrible and just stroked his cheekbones, starting to calm them down.

                Grantaire trembled and kissed his jaw. “I don’t regret this,” he promised. “Tell me you don’t – ”

                “I don’t.”

                “Fuck.”

                “You’re special to me, R,” Enjolras breathed. “Always have been. Always will be.”

                Grantaire nodded and pulled back, taking a very deep breath. “You’ll always be my Apollo – no matter how much I love Jaque or how many other people I fuck. No one’s meant as much as you have.”

                Enjolras blinked quickly and stepped away, giving them both some space. “I haven’t cared about anyone since you,” he said. “That tells you enough.”

                Grantaire nodded and smiled gently at him. “Thank you for being honest with me. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

                “Absolutely,” he breathed. “Probably at Ferre’s at the next meeting.”

                Grantaire bit his lip and nodded. “We’ll be friends.”

                Enjolras managed a smile and pushed his hand through his hair, moving so Grantaire could open the door. There was a tension between them and it was making him ache. “Have a good night with Jaque,” he whispered, half joking and half sad. Grantaire smirked at him, turning to face him through the open doorframe.

                “I think of you,” he admitted, making Enjolras’s head spin. “I have done every time.”

                “Careful you don’t say my name,” he murmured. This was impossible. “Don’t screw this up with him – if you love him, R, make sure he knows it.”

                He nodded and inched away even though he wanted to stay the night. “I love him. I am in love with him. I just still would rather kiss you than anyone else – I’d rather be with you than anyone else.”

                Enjolras almost begged him to stay. But he had to be strong – as confusing as this was. “Make it work with Jaque, R. Because as soon as you don’t want him I’ll be here.”

                Grantaire fell forwards and kissed him again, tugging at the front of his shirt to bring him down to his level. Enjolras gripped the doorframe with both hands and tasted as much of him as he could in those few seconds.

                “This is the healthiest option,” he whispered, smoothing his shirt back down. “I’ll be with someone who’s stable and understanding. You – ”

                “Have a dog.”

                They laughed, foreheads pressed together. “Yeah,” Grantaire said. “Until you find someone who can look after you like I couldn’t.”

                “Don’t hold your breath for that.”

                “Don’t hold your breath for me to fall out of love with Jaque.”

                He felt that like a knife in his stomach but nodded, pecking a kiss onto Grantaire’s cheek before leaning away. “This is more than enough.”

                Grantaire nodded and took that first step away. “I agree,” he said, taking another step. “See you soon, Apollo.”

                “Goodnight, Grantaire.”

                “I might text you later.”

                He nodded and looked down, taking a deep breath. When he looked up again Grantaire had gone and his knees were _weak_.


	24. 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mention of sex*

He took Benvolio for a late-night walk, making up for the shouting and trying to clear his head at the same time. The dog loved it. Enjolras just wanted to be in bed. But he made himself spend time with his new housemate, talking to him about Grantaire and how confused and happy he was at the moment.

                Grantaire felt almost drunk as he stepped through the door to Jaque’s house. He could feel Enjolras’s lips and body pressed against him and he’d dreamt about that for months but now, in this house, it was Jaque who was aching for him. And, honestly, he wanted Jaque. It had been Jaque suggesting they were going to indulge in each other that night that had turned him on and now, as he crept through the darkened house and up the stairs, he could barely contain his excitement for this night with his boyfriend.

                They enjoyed each other. Grantaire was worked up enough to enjoy spending hours pleasuring his boyfriend, a faint vein of guilt making him willing to do anything. When, at near enough two am, they settled down to sleep, any and all of their arguments for the last few weeks were forgiven and forgotten.

                But Grantaire didn’t want to go to sleep without messaging Enjolras – no matter how late at night it was. So, as Jaque fell asleep, he found his phone and sent a text.

_Goodnight, Apollo. Jaque and I are fine. I hope you’re okay with everything and Ben’s okay – tell him I’m sorry for shouting. I hope you have a good weekend and take care of yourself. Relax. I’m here to talk whenever you need me._

He fell asleep and woke late in the morning to a message. Jaque was lying across him, fast asleep, so he stroked his hair while reading.

_Late night for you! I hope you had fun. I had a great time seeing you – thank you for coming over. Ben accepts your apology. Glad to know you guys are good – I imagine you’re spending the whole weekend together so I’ll leave you to it. I’m okay, R. I’m happy._

_We had a lot of fun. Fuck. Oops. I’m glad you’re happy, Apollo – you’re important. Okay? Do what you have to do to make yourself happy and I’ll help you wherever I can._

_Oops. Thank you, R. I appreciate that._

What they’d really told each other was they were fine to continue this strange agreement where Grantaire was afraid of a relationship with Enjolras but didn’t deny that he was attracted to him. Enjolras had admitted that Grantaire was all he wanted and that was fine – except Grantaire wanted Jaque and wanted him enough to want to make it work.

                So, it appeared, they were having an affair.

                Except Enjolras told himself it didn’t count. They’d only kissed, really – he’d made sure of that. And nothing else would happen.


	25. 25

Benvolio came to the next meeting because it was at Combeferre’s house and he wanted him to get used to meeting new people in strange situations. So they warned Joly to take an allergy medicine, just in case, and Enjolras got there early.

                Unusually, Combeferre and Courfeyrac weren’t upstairs when he got there. They were waiting to open the door and greeted the pair warmly. It was the first time Combeferre had met the dog.

                Benvolio settled right in, dashing around for a few minutes to explore before settling down beside Enjolras again. Combeferre commented on how much trust the dog seemed to have for him already, making Enjolras beam, and produced a box of dog treats.

                “It’s not because we thought we might have to bribe him to like us or anything,” he muttered, fishing one out and holding it in his palm. “But we wanted him to associate here with nice things.”

                “Ahw,” Enjolras laughed. “But he can already associate it with you guys!”

                “Worth making us even more loveable, though,” Courfeyrac said, perching on the arm of the settee beside Combeferre. “Does he sit?”

                Enjolras grinned. “He’s perfect. Ben!” He called, bringing the dog’s ears up. The rest of the dog followed them, pushing to his feet so he could stand in front of Enjolras. He hadn’t noticed the treats. “Sit.”

                He did, eyes fixed on Enjolras’s. Courfeyrac cheered and he looked over, spotted the box and almost stood. But he’d been told to sit so he just shuffled, tail wagging across the short carpet and making a whooshing sound.

                “You’re better behaved than your daddy!” Combeferre said, holding his hand out and presenting the treat. Realising it was for him, Benvolio licked it up and searched for more. “Is he allowed another?”

                Enjolras laughed. “One more. I imagine the others will want to fuss him, too.”

                “ _Definitely_ ,” Courfeyrac said, fishing another one out and giving it straight to him. “Bossuet is going to explode with excitement.”

                Bossuet and Joly arrived soon after that. Joly crept in, wary of dogs of any size, but Bossuet sat straight on the floor and let his face get licked. Enjolras saw that Joly shuddered at this so took his hand, leading him through to the settees where he could meet Benvolio in a more gentle way.

                “He only licks if he knows you’re okay with it,” he whispered, sitting next to the young doctor. “And I’ve taken to carrying a pack of baby wipes. Just incase. So Bossuet can clean himself up before getting too close.”

                “Thank you, Enj,” Joly muttered. “What the hell made you get a dog?”

                “I’ve been lonely,” he said. “For a few years, really. It was starting to really hurt and he’s made such a difference already. We go on walks together.”

                Joly nodded but cowered into him when Benvolio walked through, followed by Bossuet. Who was beaming. “Enj – ”

                “Breathe,” he whispered, leaning forward. “Come here, Ben.” He did and considered joining Enjolras on the settee but, seeing Joly, hesitated. “Sit.” He did. “This is Joly and he’s not very confident around dogs so you have to be lovely, okay?”

                Joly laughed nervously. “He doesn’t understand you, Enj.”

                “Nonsense. Ben’s the smartest dog I know.”

                “He’s a _dog_ – ”

                “Lie down, Ben,” Enjolras said gently. The dog blinked, looked at Courfeyrac, and pressed his chest to the carpet. “Down.” He lay down properly, staring right at Enjolras and waiting for more orders. “Stay. Joly, give him a stroke.”

                “ _What_?”

                “Don’t shout,” he whispered, taking the doctor’s hand. “Come on. He’s lovely – ”

                “You’ve had him for _days_ – ”

                “Yeah, and he’s great. It’s alright. Stroke between his ears – ” Joly jumped when Benvolio looked up but Enjolras put his other hand very lightly on the dog’s nose, keeping him still. “It’s okay. I’ve got him.”

                Slowly, slowly, Joly let his fingers make contact with Benvolio’s short head fur. When Enjolras moved his hands away and Benvolio did nothing but blink he found the courage to stroke further, fingertips disappearing into his neck fur.

                He was starting to smile when the doorbell rang, making both him and the dog jump. But Benvolio stayed lying down, because he’d been told to, and Joly was amazed at his obedience.

                “I wish Bossuet was this well trained,” he muttered, stroking down to his shoulders. Enjolras grinned.

                “He’s incredible. He’s clever, so he can read people and make decisions. He took straight to Grantaire.”

                “R’s met him?” Joly asked, pulling his hand back because he wasn’t paying attention any more. At a gentle “good boy” from Enjolras, Benvolio got to his feet and went to greet the next group of new people. “When?”

                “Friday night. I got him on Thursday and it had been R’s idea so I invited him over. He stayed for less than an hour, I think. But they definitely bonded.” He felt awful missing out such a big detail from his evening with Grantaire but it couldn’t be helped. “He loves dogs.”

                “He does,” Joly sighed. And then Feuilly and Bahorel walked in, flanked by Benvolio, and the attention was taken away from the doctor for a while. This gave him time to watch the dog and get used to seeing him and, he admitted later, he started to warm to him.

                Feuilly and Bahorel loved him straight away – there was no doubt about that. And Benvolio was having a great time making new friends. When, a few minutes later, Jehan turned up, Enjolras thought his dog might die from sheer excitement.

                “This is probably the best night of his life,” Enjolras said, squashed on the settee with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. “Look at him.”

                “He looks as happy as you do,” Combeferre whispered. “Well, happier.”

                He shrugged. “I am happy. Slightly on edge just in case something upsets him.”

                “I understand. He’ll be fine, though. You say he’s already met R?”

                “Yeah.”

                “So soon he’ll have two people here that he knew before.”

                “Yeah,” Enjolras sighed, resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. “Uh. I love him.”

                Courfeyrac laughed and had just given him a hug when the doorbell rang. This would be Grantaire and Jaque and no one noticed the blush that came over Enjolras’s cheeks.

                “Where’s my number one guy?” He heard Grantaire call. Benvolio heard too and, recognising him, bounced to his feet and to the door. He heard Grantaire laugh and felt his stomach twist. “Oh, you’re gorgeous.”

                “You used to say that to me,” Jaque muttered playfully, stepping into view. Enjolras made himself smile. “Hey, everyone.”

                They all said hello – except Enjolras, whose excuse was he was watching his dog. There was no need for him to be cautious, though – he responded to Grantaire like he responded to Enjolras and had almost worn himself out by the time the meeting actually started.

                Enjolras called him over, first, making him sit on the floor beside him and Courfeyrac. And then they went through the plans for the next few weeks, asking for suggestions and getting very excited when they realised the next event was actually _after_ Christmas.


	26. 26

The meeting died down soon after that and became more of a social, as usual. During the informal conversations Joly and Bossuet announced that they were going to host a Christmas party – a now annual tradition – the next weekend. Everyone was expected to attend.

                “It’s a good test for Ben, too,” Enjolras muttered to Courfeyrac. “See if he can cope a night alone. I’ll be back in the morning but I’ve been there though the nights in case anything happens so far.”

                “He’ll be fine,” Courfeyrac said. “Look at him – he loves everyone. And he clearly loves you.”

                “I think he does,” Enjolras sighed. And then they just watched the dog for a while, leaning into each other and enjoying the company of their friends.

                Enjolras carefully hadn’t looked at Grantaire all evening but now, when it was quiet and Grantaire was the only one talking, he couldn’t help it. He was explaining something to Jaque – something about voting – and had captured everyone’s attention. Like he so often did.

                His voice was warm and passionate, like it had been so many years ago. His hands seemed to have a life of their own and danced around him like a dance to match his words and, as he stared, Enjolras felt his heart melt away a little bit more.

                He loved him.

                But Jaque loved him, too. He was gazing at him with a slightly bemused expression and Enjolras knew he wasn’t listening properly – but he didn’t need to. Grantaire was radiant.

                Enjolras excused himself, taking Benvolio outside for the chance to toilet. The dog was perfectly comfortable, thanks, but being outside gave Enjolras the chance to smoke only his second cigarette of the day and he made sure to make the most of that.

                He didn’t like smoking around his dog but he was his only excuse to get outside.

                Joly and Bossuet were getting ready to leave when they returned. Enjolras gave them both a hug and Joly was brave enough to give Benvolio another stroke before they disappeared, reminding everyone that the party was going to be a long one.

                Feuilly, Bahorel and Jehan left soon after that. And then, horrifically, Enjolras was left momentarily alone with Grantaire and Jaque.

                “I’ve never wanted a dog,” Jaque said, making Enjolras frown. So?

                “Nah, you’re more of a cat person,” Grantaire said gently.

                “I like cats, too,” Enjolras said, too defensive. “It just made sense for me to get a dog.”

                “How do you mean?”

                He bristled. “I mean I’m attached to no individual person so have plenty of time to dedicate to training and exercising – you don’t have to do that with cats. Cats don’t care if they aren’t your priority. I have no one else to prioritise over Benvolio so – ”

                “Benvolio?” Combeferre echoed from the kitchen, effectively stopping Enjolras’s rant. He took a deep breath and forced a smile.

                “Yeah.”

                “I love him even more,” he called, making Enjolras laugh. Ben’s ears pricked up, wondering what was happening, and Enjolras decided it was time they went home.

                That meant tearing himself away from Grantaire.

                “I think it’s home time, Ben,” he said, holding his hand out for his dog. He came to him searching for treats. “Say goodbye.”

                “You’re leaving?” Courfeyrac squeaked, bouncing into view. Benvolio jumped a little and stepped closer to Enjolras. “Oops, sorry.”

                “He’s okay,” he said quickly. “But yeah. I’m tired and I’m sure he is, too.”

                “Okie dokie.” Courfeyrac gave him a tight hug and then dropped down to say bye to the dog. “Look after him, alright?” He whispered, patting his side.

                Combeferre gave him a similarly strong hug, too, and suggested that Benvolio became a semi-regular part of the society. By this, he meant he should go to every meeting at the house but not necessarily the ones at the Musain. Enjolras agreed, called a quick goodbye to Grantaire and Jaque, and led Benvolio to the door.

                He pulled on his coat and clipped the lead on and, slightly disappointed that Grantaire hadn’t come out to say goodbye, slipped into the night.

                He was glad for Benvolio’s company. It was dark and, as it was approaching Christmas, there were more people on the streets than usual. He kept Ben’s lead short and whispered to him the whole time, reassuring him when distant sounds made him jump and praising him when they got home without any incidents.


	27. 27

_Apollo?_

_R?_

_Can we talk?_

He sighed, stretching his neck, and pressed dial. Grantaire answered straight away.

                “Are you okay?” He asked.

                “Yeah. Why?”

                “You didn’t talk to me all meeting.”

                “Sorry,” he muttered. “Is Jaque there?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Okay. I just felt a bit awkward – and I was distracted by Ben.”

                “I understand. Are we okay, though?”

                “Of course we are.”

                “Does Ben still love me?”

                Enjolras laughed and flicked on the kitchen light. His dog was asking for a late-night meal and he supposed he’d earned something so sprinkled a few biscuits into his bowl as he spoke to Grantaire. “He definitely does. He was so excited to see you.”

                “Were you?” Grantaire kept his voice light and casual but Enjolras felt his cheeks blush.

                “Yeah. Always am – even when you’ve annoyed me.” Grantaire laughed. “Sorry I didn’t talk much.”

                “It’s fine, silly.” He bowed his head. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

                Ah. End of conversation. “I’m fine, R,” he whispered. “Have a good night.”

                “Thanks. You too.”

                They hesitated. And then Enjolras hung up before he could say something he’d regret. He put Benvolio to bed and made himself strip down before hiding under the duvet, even though he’d much rather have fallen back asleep on the settee.


	28. 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Making out*

Grantaire came over once that week. Enjolras had had a horrible two days at work and hadn’t been able to help it – he sent Grantaire a text.

_I feel really low is there any chance I could see you for 5?_

And the reply came in seconds.

_Of course. I’m coming to you now – are you at home?_

_Yeah_

_Is Ben with you?_

_We’re on the settee together._

_Okay, Apollo. I’m coming._

He only had to wait for a few minutes before a knock on the door. Benvolio leapt to his feet and looked between the door and a very pale Enjolras, not sure what was going on.

                “Thanks for coming,” Enjolras muttered, opening the door and trying to not look so pathetic. But Grantaire took one look at him and stepped inside, shutting the door and taking Enjolras’s hands to pull him to the settee.

                “Hey, Ben,” he said quietly, acknowledging the dog but not sparing any attention on him. “Sit with me, Apollo. Let me hold you for a bit.”

                He groaned quietly and sat back down, shoulders hunched and curling together. “It’s just been awful. Like everything I did was just _wrong_.”

                “Tell me,” Grantaire whispered, slipping his arm slowly around Enjolras’s worried shoulders and pulled him into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here as long as you need me.”

                Enjolras sniffed and closed his eyes, letting himself indulge in the warmth and comfort of Grantaire. “We submitted a report last week and it got returned to us. They didn’t like it and we – they wondered whether the data was off. It _wasn’t_. But they thought it was so, until about four pm today, I was in the shit. Like, job on the line type thing. But I proved that I hadn’t messed up and it was just in the interpretation and we got it sorted without anyone else getting in trouble, which I guess is good.”

                Grantaire kissed his hair and lay back. “Were they really that angry?”

                He nodded. “Yeah. It was horrible.”

                “I bet you didn’t sleep last night.”

                He sniffed again and shook his head, curling his legs up and leaning into Grantaire like it was something they were _allowed_ to do. “Not a wink.”

                “Will you sleep tonight?”

                “I think so, yeah. I’m exhausted.”

                “You look terrible. Have you eaten?” A pause. “Apollo, I’ll make you some food. Coming to the kitchen with me?”

                He groaned again and sat up, blinking slowly at Grantaire. “Thank you. I just needed to see you.”

                “Always here,” Grantaire said, winking, and standing up. “Come on.”

                “You’re brilliant. I just felt really shit, y’know?”

                “I know,” Grantaire said, taking his hand again as they walked. “I know how low you get and I’m not going to forget. Whenever you say you need me I’ll be right here.”

                “Even though Jaque?” Enjolras muttered, filling the kettle and not looking at Grantaire. So he didn’t expect him to wrap his arms around his waist from behind and kiss his shoulder. He yelped, pulse flying and every nerve ending suddenly on fire. “R!”

                “Even though Jaque,” Grantaire whispered. “Because I know you better than anyone else. And you know me. So we have to have each other’s backs.”

                “You’ve got _my_ back,” he muttered, leaning into him slightly. Grantaire moved his hands up to rub lightly against Enjolras’s chest, almost making him purr. “Jesus – ”

                “How are you feeling now?”

                “A lot more relaxed,” he whispered. “But I wouldn’t say _relaxed_ – ”

                “What’s wrong?”

                “R, you have a boyfriend – ”

                “He won’t know.”

                That had quickly turned into a very dangerous phrase. Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned around, hands cupping Grantaire’s hips. He didn’t even take a breath. He just kissed him.

                They leaned together and tightened their arms around each other, almost making it impossible for each of them to take a breath. Enjolras’s tongue reached to touch Grantaire’s before he’d even thought about it, bringing gentle moans to each of their throats. Grantaire caught him by the jaw and stepped back towards the living room.

                Neither of them were thinking.

                They found themselves not quite reaching the living room and just pushing each other down onto the floor, trying to press as close to each other as they could.

                One of them had to stop this. But they were lost in each other and somehow their legs were tangled and their shirts were being pushed up –

                The kettle boiled and made them jump, giving them enough of a surprise to make them start thinking again. And they stared at each other, Grantaire’s nose was still touching Enjolras’s.

                “Oops,” Enjolras whispered, pulling his hands away from Grantaire’s skin. “Should we ignore that?”

                “Yep,” Grantaire muttered, standing up and offering his hand. “Food, Apollo.”

                He accepted the hand but dropped it as soon as he was standing, trying to create some distance between them. It wouldn’t work for long but he tried.

                They cooked pasta, reasoning that it wouldn’t take long and they could both have some. And they sat together on the settee, trying to not think about how wild they’d been, and leaned towards one another.

                This time, Enjolras started it.

                He was feeling relaxed now that Grantaire was there. He was a reassuring light at the end of a horrible two days and Enjolras was kissing him again.

                “Apollo – ”

                “Nothing else,” he whispered, all-but clinging to him. “Please, R – ”

                “What do you want?” He asked, rubbing his thumbs into Enjolras’s cheekbones. The blonde closed his eyes and shivered.

                “Just let me kiss you,” Enjolras murmured, pushing his face into one of Grantaire’s hands. “It’s nothing worse than what we’ve already done and no one will know – ”

                Grantaire found himself grinning and kissed the corner of his lips, making him gasp. “Why do you want me so much?”

                He just groaned and followed his lips, stealing another kiss from him. “Because I’m infatuated with you,” Enjolras mumbled, “and I don’t expect you to feel the same but I don’t want to stop – ”

                Grantaire kissed him again, smiling and trying to not let his emotions boil over. Because this was Enjolras – _Enjolras_ – who wanted to kiss him and hold him –

                “We should give ourselves a time limit,” Grantaire suggested, fingers slipping into his hair. “Five minutes – ”

                “Ten – please – ”

                Grantaire laughed and pulled back. “You’re acting strange, Apollo.”

                He looked down and licked his lips. “I’m letting myself indulge in you for a few minutes and then I’ll let you go back to your boyfriend.”

                Grantaire smiled and pulled his phone out, setting an alarm for ten minutes from then. They wasted no time.

                Enjolras reached for him and pulled him closer, kissing him like he was oxygen. They sat there and kissed for the whole ten minutes, not letting themselves get carried away again and just enjoying their closeness –

                The alarm made them jump. Each of them wanted more time but they pulled away and took several deep breaths, wiping their faces, and trying to calm their pulses.

                “Well,” Grantaire said, “that was bad.”

                Enjolras laughed and pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning back and away from Grantaire. “I’m sorry. Are you upset?”

                “Not at all.”

                “Are you going to be angry next time I see you?”

                Grantaire laughed and shook his head, rubbing his hand through his hair. “No. Not at all. I’m glad you’ve let me do this.”

                “Do this?”

                “Forget about everything that’s changed with us,” Grantaire said, shrugging. “For a few minutes today we hadn’t broken each other’s hearts and there was nothing wrong with still being drawn to one another.”

                Enjolras felt himself get desperate again. “There still is nothing wrong with it.”

                “I have Jaque.”

                “But you – you aren’t sure about him – ”

                “I’m sure I don’t want to dump him just so we can fuck each other up again,” he said a little sharply. “Please don’t push me, Apollo.” Enjolras hung his head. “I’m sorry. But we don’t work together.”

                “So you keep saying,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling a face. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, R. For everything.”

                He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sending me home?”

                “No, but I don’t want to forget to tell you how grateful I am. I _was_ low and this wasn’t just me trying to get off with you.”

                Grantaire laughed and gazed at him too softly. For a moment, they’d never argued. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you call it ‘getting off’ before.”

                Enjolras blushed incredibly darkly. “Well, what else should I call it?”

                “I don’t know, Apollo – were you referring to what we _have_ done or what we almost did on the floor?”

                Enjolras looked away. “The latter.”

                “Fucking. The word you want is _fucking_ – ” Enjolras burst out laughing “ – what’s funny?”

                He blinked and shook his head. “When I saw you that night I didn’t think I’d ever want to see you again. And today you’ve been the best thing to happen to me.”

                “And the word ‘fucking’ has tickled you?”

                He shrugged and blinked slowly at him. “Because I never thought I’d get so carried away with you. I never thought I’d get carried away with _anyone_ because I haven’t found anyone – I haven’t found anyone yet.”

                Grantaire looked genuinely upset. “Not even someone in passing you’ve liked the look of?”

                “Nope.”

                “You’ve never even dreamed of being in love with Jehan?”

                Enjolras laughed and rolled his eyes. “I’m already a bit in love with Jehan and I’ll never understand anyone who isn’t.”

                Grantaire laughed and shrugged. “I can understand that. When you do find someone else let me know, Apollo. I’ll help you.”

                There was no way he was falling in love with anyone else but he thanked Grantaire and they spoke about lighter things for a few minutes. Benvolio had given up with them long ago but came out to say goodbye to Grantaire.

                They just about didn’t kiss again. It was close because they were next to the door which now seemed to just hold wild memories but they reduced it to a gentle hug and a knowing smile.

                “See you at the party,” Grantaire said, raising one eyebrow. “Have a good night, Apollo.”

                “You too, R. Sleep tight.”

                They smiled at each other and parted. Enjolras listened to the soft click of the front door and tried to tell himself that it was enough for now. Grantaire took a long route home, ignoring a phonecall from Jaque, and let his imagination wander.

                He’d felt Enjolras before. He’d tasted his breath and felt his pulse and so much more. He loved him so much but he was still hurting from every one of their arguments. And he couldn’t let Enjolras know because they were doing well as friends – friends who had kissed too many times. But that didn’t matter.

                He wished he had the smoke of one of Enjolras’s cigarettes.

                Eventually, he dragged himself home. It was getting late but Jaque wanted to see him so he went straight over, telling himself that it was okay that he was still turned on from Enjolras. Jaque would just think he’d missed him.


	29. 29

The rest of the week passed normally and then, somehow, it was the night of the party. Enjolras was nervous about leaving Benvolio so had bought him new toys and had hidden them around the kitchen. He’d set up a reasonably secure corner for him to use as a toilet. He’d promised him he’d be back in the morning.

                So he just had to get himself to Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta’s house and try to have a good time. It was cold and he wanted to wear gloves but they made smoking difficult and he needed the cigarettes – he was on edge and anxious and he’d grown used to walking with his dog. So he smoked three on the way and made sure to hide them and the lighter inside his coat for when he reached his friends.

                Grantaire and Jaque were already there and he tried desperately to avoid them. He hid behind a glass of cider for the first hour and just spoke to Combeferre and Courfeyrac but then, as the alcohol hit, he found the confidence to move around the room. There were some people there who he’d never met before so he stuck with his friends, drifting between groups and occasionally standing alone.

                That was fine. He didn’t mind that.

                And then some woman – beautiful, yes, and drunk – came over to him and started talking. And then it became flirting and he felt the sudden, strong need for another cigarette so he excused himself and ran out of the back door, stopping by the room they were using for coats and carefully not making eye contact with Joly.

                That was terrifying. That was exactly what he’d dreaded happening and no one had been there to save him.

                But it was freezing so he went back inside, finding more cider and drifting from room to room. He didn’t want to be caught alone again but the only friends he could see were Grantaire and Jaque –

                They would have to do.

                He edged over to them, hiding behind his glass, and instantly regretted it. They were arguing.

                “I’m not leaving early just because you want to fuck,” Grantaire snapped. Enjolras looked away. “Joly is my best friend.”

                “And you see them all the time!”

                “I practically live with you!”

                “Hardly, R – ”

                “You can leave early if you like but I’m not coming home until later,” Grantaire said, turning away from Jaque and almost walking into Enjolras. They both blushed and looked away from each other and Grantaire slipped away, leaving his boyfriend with Enjolras.

                This was awkward.

                “Anything I can help with?” Enjolras asked, inching towards him. He sighed heavily and shrugged.

                “I just don’t get him.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “I mean usually he’s desperate to go home away from loud groups.”

                Enjolras nodded. “Yeah. But this _is_ Joly – R’s closer to him than he is to anyone. Joly’s saved him more times than any of us can guess so he loves him.”

                Jaque shrugged. “I feel redundant.”

                “You aren’t,” he said quickly. “Grantaire loves you too. He just needs to be able to surround himself with his friends. Being alone with one person all the time doesn’t suit him.”

                Jaque nodded and looked down. “Thanks. How long have you known him?”

                He had to be careful. “Just over a year,” he said, “but we talk a fair bit. He’s a good guy.”

                “He is – he really is. And I love him so much.” Enjolras felt sick. “But – I dunno. I get the feeling this isn’t going to work out.”

                “What do you mean?” He asked too quickly and too eagerly. This was bad, really. He wanted Grantaire to be happy.

                Jaque shrugged. “He says he loves me. But I – I see him drifting from me every day.”

                Enjolras felt sick but shook his head. “Nonsense. He’s told me that you’re the best thing in his life.”

                “Really?”

                “Really.”

                He shrugged again. “I just feel like an outsider, I guess. You’re all so close. I get jealous.”

                Enjolras managed a laugh. “No need. R’s in love with you and he plans on being for quite a while.”

                “Thanks, Enjolras.” A moment of awkward silence. “Why does he call you Apollo?”

                _Shit_. “It’s the hair,” he said quickly gesturing with his free hand. “And you know Grantaire. He likes to wind me up.”

                Jaque laughed. “You always argue.”

                “We do,” he admitted, “but we make up quickly. We’re good friends. And we trust each other.”

                Jaque nodded at this. “Thanks for talking to me, Enjolras. I should probably go and find him and apologise.”

                Enjolras bowed his head and stepped back. “Good idea.”

                He disappeared.

                Enjolras wanted to go home. He wanted to go home with Grantaire like they had done six years ago and he wanted to spend the night sleeping beside him but Jaque was going to do that. And Grantaire had made it very clear that he _didn’t_ want a relationship with Enjolras.

                It wasn’t going to happen.


	30. 30

He found Combeferre and said that he thought he was going to go home – to which his friend protested. He explained that he felt drained and was worrying about Ben but this didn’t help – Combeferre reminded him that it was good for the dog to spend some time alone. And he took his hand, dragging him to find Joly.

                “He’s a quitter!” Combeferre announced, bumping Enjolras over to Joly. Who was drunk.

                “No!” The young doctor cried, throwing his arms around him. “Please don’t go!”

                “Joly, I’ve barely spoken to you tonight – ”

                “Exactly!”

                “You won’t miss me – ”

                “Yes I will! Sit with us for a minute, at least,” he pleaded, pulling away and looking at Grantaire with sad eyes. “Please?”

                Enjolras rolled his eyes but sat with them, letting Joly keep his hand. And he enjoyed the conversation – especially when Jehan perched on his lap. Then, he decided he may as well stay. He played with Jehan’s hair and they made sure to keep him within the conversation, reassuring and encouraging each other.

                And then Grantaire sat with them, drunk, and Enjolras tried to hide behind the poet.

                “Have you seen Jaque?” He asked, dropping a kiss on Bossuet’s cheek. No one could say yes. “Fuck. I think he’s gone home.”

                Musichetta asked him why and he recounted their argument, explaining that Jaque didn’t like being in crowds and admitting that he’d been insensitive. They agreed it was best if he text him so he did while sitting there and the conversation continued for a bit longer.

                “Fuck,” Grantaire muttered. Enjolras was staring at him and saw the way his eyebrows pulled together. “I’m gonna go home.”

                “What?!”

                “Just for an hour or so. I told you – he doesn’t like crowds and he’s – he’s having a bad one,” Grantaire muttered, eyes flashing to Joly. Who, apparently, knew more than the rest of them and nodded.

                “Give him a hug from me, beautiful.”

                “Thanks.”

                “Does he really struggle?” Jehan asked, standing up to hug the artist. Who closed his eyes – facing Enjolras – and nodded. “The poor thing. I wouldn’t have guessed but you are quite a pair, aren’t you?”

                Grantaire managed a laugh and spoke looking at Enjolras. He was clearly in pain. “He has anxiety and panics in big crowds. So I’m going to go and make a fuss of him and calm him down and leave him to sleep for a bit.”

                Enjolras nodded, as if Grantaire was just telling him. “Are you okay walking?” He asked without thinking about it. Grantaire blinked and released Jehan, letting the whole group watch this next exchange.

                “Are you offering to walk me to my boyfriend’s house?”

                That hurt a lot but Enjolras nodded. “It’s dark and late. I don’t want you getting hurt – and you’re a lot more drunk than I am.”

                “It means leaving the party – ”

                “I’ll come back with you. I really want to check on Ben,” he admitted, flashing a look at Joly. He smiled gently. “So it’s a perfect opportunity. And I don’t live far from Jaque, anyway.”

                Grantaire nodded. “Come on, then.”

                Enjolras practically leapt to his feet, almost took Grantaire’s hand, and followed him to the coats. They didn’t speak until they’d said a temporary goodbye to their friends and had stepped into the air.


	31. 31

Enjolras lit a cigarette.

                “You’re smoking again?”

                “Still.”

                “I thought you’d stopped.”

                “Just cut down.”

                “Ah.”

                Silence. It was almost unbearable but Grantaire sighed and made them stop walking so they could face each other.

                “I’m struggling to not kiss you,” he admitted, bringing a rush of blood to Enjolras’s cheeks. “I know that’s it’s trashy of us because I’m going home to comfort Jaque but – ”

                “But he won’t know,” Enjolras said quickly. Grantaire flashed a grin and inched closer. “We need to learn how to talk to each other without kissing again – ”

                “Yeah, but not right now,” Grantaire muttered, hand on his waist and suddenly reaching up to kiss him. He tasted of alcohol and Enjolras kept his still burning cigarette out of the way, very aware of how easy it would be to accidentally burn the artist. The kiss was reasonably short and they broke away, gasping in the cold, and looked down.

                “We can’t keep this up,” Enjolras muttered.

                “Why not?”

                “Because I love more than just your body,” he hissed. Grantaire closed his eyes and Enjolras finished the cigarette, giving himself more confidence. “Grantaire – you must have realised.”

                “Realised _what_?”

                “That I’m – that I’m helpless for you,” he snapped. Grantaire didn’t look at him. “That I love you and loved you and love you still – ”

                “That’s bullshit, Enjolras,” he said. “You don’t love me. You hate me.”

                “I do not hate you!”

                “I cheated on you!”

                “I have a new respect for adulterers!” He cried, taking his shoulders in his hands. “I don’t care, R – that was years ago.”

                He shook his head. “You’re drunk.”

                “Which is why I’m fucking telling you – ”

                “You don’t love me!”

                Enjolras almost cried. Instead, he bit back his words and touched Grantaire’s cheek gently with his thumb. The artist closed his eyes, lips slipping open in a sigh, as Enjolras leaned down to kiss him again. It was a firmer kiss. Enjolras kept hold of Grantaire’s head, keeping him close, and took his hand.

                “I know you don’t love me and I know I’m drunk enough to be making this up,” Grantaire murmured against his lips, “but I’d like this to continue.”

                Enjolras kissed him again. “You’re not making it up,” he promised, taking a soft handful of his hair. “Grantaire, give me another chance – ”

                “I don’t want to leave Jaque!”

                He bowed his head and dropped his hands. “I forget,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

                “Enjolras, we _can’t_ date each other.”

                “Why not?”

                “Because I promised myself years ago that I’d never put us through that again.”

                “It’s not the same now!”

                “It might be!”

                “It won’t – I’m better now! I’m better,” he promised. “Grantaire, please – ”

                “I can’t believe that you love me.”

                “I do.”

                “It wouldn’t work,” Grantaire muttered. “You love the world more than you ever loved me – ”

                “Grantaire – ”

                “I was always second best and I can’t be that again!” He shouted. “It’s your turn, Apollo – ”

                “You think I felt like your priority when I caught you screwing your ‘friend’?” He yelled, stepping backwards. “Yeah, R, I felt really special!”

                “I was dedicated to you!”

                “Unless there was someone around with a quieter diary!”

                “You were never around!”

                “And you’d rather waste all of your time and money on alcohol than pay attention to me!”

                Grantaire threw his hands into the air. “See what I mean? You have no idea how difficult it is for me to – ”

                “What, to quit alcohol? I’m fucking smoking again, R!”

                “It’s not the same!”

                “How can you say that?” Enjolras hissed. “Grantaire, you are _not_ insensitive. What the fuck has happened to you?”

                He just shook his head and turned away. Enjolras was furious but didn’t have the energy to follow him so just stood there, praying that he’d turn and look at him.

                “I want to love you,” Grantaire said after a moment. He was facing away. “And I do. I love you so much it’s hurting me and that’s how I know it’s not good.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Love shouldn’t make you feel sick,” Grantaire sighed, turning. “Love shouldn’t make you angry.”

                Enjolras lifted his head to the sky, trying to breathe. “I’m always angry,” he muttered. “And I always feel sick. Maybe love just isn’t for me.”

                “Maybe.”

                “But, Grantaire – ”

                “Please – ”

                “I love you so much,” he whispered, looking back down. Grantaire was shaking his head. “I love you.”

                “I can’t let myself believe that again.”

                “Give me a chance.”

                “I’m in a relationship!”

                “And you said that wouldn’t stop you!”

                Grantaire was distraught. He wanted Enjolras – god, he wanted him – but he couldn’t hurt Jaque. He couldn’t do that to the man who was waiting at home, trying to recover from a panic attack. And he couldn’t trust Enjolras.

                But he did trust him.

                “I can’t do it, Apollo,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

                Enjolras nodded and looked away. He had to be strong. He had to build a wall. “Never call me Apollo again,” he whispered. “We’re not staying in a room alone together again. Don’t text me unless it’s an emergency and if I phone you because I’m desperate to hear you because I love you just ignore the call.”

                “Enjolras – ”

                “Stop fucking giving me hope!” He snapped. “I’ve wanted to hold you ever since you first came to a meeting but just fucking stop it. I am still in love with you but it’s evidently not going to work out so act like you hate me because I know you do.”

                “I do not hate you!”

                “It would be easier if you did!”

                “Enjolras, I love you!” He shouted. “That’s why this is so difficult!”

                “That’s the least difficult part – ”

                “I love you and I can’t be with you!”

                “Why the fuck not?”

                “Because – Jesus – haven’t you listened?” He took an angry step closer. “We are _toxic_ together.”

                “It was years – ”

                “No, Enjolras. Don’t. Because I have a partner to get home to who fucking needs me right now. So I’m going to go back to him and I’ll text Joly to say I’m staying at home. And I might see you at the next meeting but I might not because I might see sense and put some distance between us.”

                Enjolras was crying steadily. “We had five years of distance and it wasn’t enough to make me want to be without you.”

                Grantaire closed his eyes. “You’re going to have to be, Enjolras. Because I’m terrified of hurting like that again – ”

                “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

                “Breaking up with Jaque would hurt me,” he said firmly. “Don’t you understand? I’m in love with him. No matter how much I still love you he is my _now_. I have to look after him and dedicate myself to him.”

                Enjolras felt anger and jealously flare up again but he looked away, tensing his jaw. “I understand,” he whispered. “I’ll stop wishing you were mine if you promise to stop treating me like maybe I’m yours.”

                Grantaire sighed and nodded and, deciding that was more than enough, Enjolras turned and walked away. He lit another cigarette as he went, breath jumping in sobs because he’d still hoped. He’d still thought he had a chance but Grantaire was right, of course – they couldn’t do this. They couldn’t justify this.

                He went back to the party, explained to them all that Grantaire was going to stay with Jaque, and worked on getting himself drunk. He thought that, maybe, he’d be able to forget the whole horrible thing.

                No such luck.

                Instead, he spent a good hour throwing up and crying about how much he hated Grantaire. Fortunately it was Combeferre looking after him and he completely understood, sweeping his hair back and forcing him to take gentle sips of water whenever he could manage it.


	32. 32

He was embarrassed in the morning but by no means the most hungover. Joly was curled up on the settee, staring into space as if he’d seen the end of the world.

                They all dispersed fairly early, sharing slightly still drunk hugs and kisses at the front door. Enjolras knew that he was in for a bad day – maybe a bad month – and considered just starting drinking again.

                But Benvolio needed attention and a long walk was probably a good idea. So he made himself a weak coffee and forced himself to eat some bread before clipping the lead into place and taking his dog for a long, slow walk.

                He didn’t speak to Grantaire.

                He came to the next meeting but they didn’t even look at each other. And then it was Christmas and Enjolras and Benvolio were invited to Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s and they had a great time, eating and drinking far too much and crying over films like they had done every year.

                New Year appeared very suddenly and there was another party – this time calmer and less wild but still at Joly’s. Again, he didn’t look at or speak to Grantaire. When the clock chimed at midnight he shared a compassionate hug with Benvolio, who he’d been allowed to bring, and made himself ignore the couples all around him.

                Jehan tapped his shoulder.

                “A dog can’t be your new year’s kiss, Enj,” they said, making him smile. “How about it?”

                “What does Feuilly say?” Enjolras laughed, glancing over at his friend. Who was grinning.

                “You know what we’re like, hon – I’ll kiss whoever the hell I want and he’ll insist on wearing white trainers.”

                Enjolras laughed and took their hand, cheeks glowing red. But Jehan kissed them and it tasted of strawberry lipsalve and made both of them laugh and smile.

                “You’re the best thing in the world,” Enjolras said, crushing them in a sudden hug. “I love you, Jehan.”

                “I love you too, beautiful.”

                They all stayed awake all night, laughing and drinking gentle amounts. Grantaire found himself staring at Enjolras when he should have been listening to Jaque but Enjolras didn’t look at him once – it was like he was invisible. Which, he supposed, was for the best.

                He did a brilliant job of pretending Grantaire was invisible. It hurt – god, it hurt – but he could tell himself that it would hurt more to interfere with his and Jaque’s relationship. They seemed to be happy, from the few glances he allowed himself and what Joly told him when he needed reassuring that this was the right thing.

                Benvolio came to every meeting – even at the Musain. One day, when Enjolras had been low and had spent most of it curled up with his dog on Combeferre’s settee, Courf dropped in to ask the owners if it would be okay. He explained that Enjolras was going through something difficult at the moment and they let him, provided the dog was well behaved. And he was.


	33. 33

He kept it up for months. When more events became active over the spring and summer he found it harder to concentrate as much as he had to on work but, even though he barely slept, he managed it. He managed it until a protest got out of hand and he saw all of his hard work put in danger.

                It had been rocky from the beginning, when the police had supplied barely any protection. And it was a small turn out for them, with only a couple of speakers and very little public interest. Enjolras had hoped for more – he’d expected more people to care about the way the economy was hitting farmers but, apparently, it wasn’t worth anyone’s time.

                It turned violent.

                It started with a passer-by who yelled at them and when one protester retaliated. The snow-ball effect was rapid and the low police-presence wasn’t enough to stop the fights.

                He knew his friends would be safe. Bahorel and Feuilly were enough to protect Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta and, if it came to it Courfeyrac’s friend, Marius. Combeferre and Courfeyrac would be fine – they were tall and strong. Grantaire would be able to look after Jaque.

                So he didn’t waste time trying to find them. He tried to defend a couple of people but, realising he was more likely to get himself in trouble than fix anything, he slipped away.

                He’d been pushed over at the start of the trouble and had cut his leg through his jeans which made running difficult. Instead, he hobbled when he was alone and tried to walk casually when he saw people. The last thing he needed was someone to point him out.

                He’d got maybe five minutes away before what had actually happened sank in and, in a fit of anger, he punched a wall. A brick wall.

                His knucles crunched and he swore, cradling the hand to his chest and pushing his forehead against the bricks instead. No one would ever take them seriously again and he let out a pained yell with no words. He was some distance from anyone and yelled again, stopping short of hitting his head against the wall and kicking it instead.

                Everything was ruined.

                He sank to the floor and pulled his phone out with some difficulty, realising it made sense to make sure, now, that his friends were okay. He text them all – even Grantaire – and leaned back while he waited for a reply.

                His hand really hurt. He’d have to go to hospital.

                The texts started to come through and he felt relief trickled through the disappointment with each one. And then Grantaire’s arrived and he felt the pain of it all intensify.

_We’re fine. I told you these things were fucking dangerous._

He didn’t reply for a while. He was crying and hurting and Grantaire always just made things worse.

_Great. Thanks._

_Are you okay?_

_I will be._

_What? What happened?_

_I hit a wall._

_WHAT?! WHY?! ARE YOU OKAY_

_I’m angry and upset_

_I bet. Are you okay?_

_Yeah_

_Can I phone you?_

_No_

_Oh._

It was a few minutes before his phone buzzed again and, when it did, it was Grantaire. Phoning him. He ignored it and it rang out but started again so, furious, he answered.

                “I said I didn’t want to talk!”

                “Enjolras, breathe,” he whispered. “Come on. I know how bad you get. Where are you?”

                “I don’t want to see you.”

                “Okay. Is anyone with you? Do any of them know where you are?”

                “No.”

                “I can’t let you be upset and alone – ”

                “I’ve been upset and alone for months!” He shouted, almost putting the phone down. But he was so angry. “Today is no fucking different!”

                “You haven’t punched a wall every day,” Grantaire said. “Come on, Ap – Enjolras. Tell me where you are. I know you hate me – ”

                “I – fucking hell.”

                “Please, Enjolras.”

                How wasn’t he angry with him? Defeated, Enjolras described where he was hiding and Grantaire kept talking to him the whole time, keeping the panic at bay. Because he was alone – but not for long.


	34. 34

Grantaire appeared very suddenly and sat down beside him, slipping his arms around him and pulling him in so his face was pressed into his shoulder. They didn’t say anything and then, realising he was safe, Enjolras broke down.

                He sobbed and sobbed so much he worried he’d make his nose bleed. Grantaire just held him, stroking his back and silently waiting for him to exhaust himself. He shuddered a few times, convulsing sharply when his mind and body pushed him further into panic. Grantaire didn’t relax his hold even once and, eventually, he managed to breathe again.

                “I’ve got you,” Grantaire whispered, wiping his face on his sleeve for him. “Hey, Apollo. Welcome back.”

                He shivered. “Don’t call me Apollo,” he muttered. “Don’t do that to me.”

                “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “Hey, Enjolras – Enjolras, breathe. Calm down.” He tried. “What upset you so much?”

                “Everything we’ve done in the last few months is ruined,” he sniffed. “No one’s going to let us organise rallies or protests now. And no one would want to come along, anyway.”

                “That’s not true. You know people forget this sort of thing – people will always join in. And your groups won’t be damaged by this – not too terribly. Because you’ve done so much _good_.”

                “People never remember the good,” he muttered, pulling away from Grantaire and rubbing his eyes with his okay-hand. “They only focus on the bad. You know this.”

                Grantaire sighed and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “But you will always move forward,” he whispered. “Don’t give up, Enjolras – ”

                “I’m not! But I’m allowed to – to feel despair.”

                “Of course you are – it’s okay. But I think we need to get you to the hospital – your hand looks terrible.”

                Enjolras groaned and nodded, pushing to his feet. Grantaire helped him and, ignoring the way he shied away, put his arms around him again.

                “Thank you,” Enjolras whispered after a moment. “Thank you so much for saving me.”

                Grantaire laughed and put his hand on Enjolras’s waist. “You’ve saved me enough in the past. Think you can walk to the hospital?”

                “Yeah,” he sighed, pulling away. It hurt so much to be talking to Grantaire again – he thought he might be sick. But he couldn’t think of anyone better to support and calm him after such a disastrous day. “How’s Jaque?”

                “He’s okay. Enjolras, I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

                “Oh?”

                “Please, Enjolras.”

                “Okay,” he muttered, cradling his injured hand. “Have you heard from the others?”

                “Yeah. Joly et al are with Baz and Fee and Jehan. They’re probably all going to spend the night together.”

                “I daren’t tell Joly about my hand,” he said, making Grantaire chuckle. “He’s kill me.”

                “Yep.”

                “I’m an _idiot_.”

                Grantaire laughed again and almost put his hand on Enjolras’s waist. “You are. But we all love you anyway, Enjolras.”

                He groaned and walked faster, really hoping the hospital would be able to see him quickly. His hand was making him nauseous.

                They didn’t speak again until they’d reached the hospital and, by then, Enjolras felt so bad he could barely stand up. So Grantaire made him sit down and explained the situation to the receptionist – embellishing it somewhat so Enjolras didn’t look quite so stupid – and they were seen within a couple of hours. Enjolras’s hand was put in a cast – he’d broken two bones – and he realised there was no way he was going to hide this from his friends.

                Seeing that he was down about this, Grantaire dragged him to a coffee shop for a few minutes. Enjolras used every argument for why this was a bad idea but, knowing how much it would help, Grantaire just grinned and walked off ahead of him.

                Furious, Enjolras followed.

                “Grantaire, you are not paying – ”

                “Too late. Sit down somewhere, Enj – I’ll bring the tray over seeing as you’re out of action for the foreseeable future.”

                Bright red and fuming, he found a table big enough for four people and sat down so he could glare at Grantaire as he approached. This just made the artist laugh.

                “You didn’t even let me choose,” he muttered, not looking at the mug placed in front of him. Grantaire sighed and sat opposite.

                “What would you have had?”

                “Latte.”

                “Do you really think I wouldn’t remember that?” The artist laughed, nudging the mug closer. “Ta-daa.”

                “You assumed.”

                “I remembered.”

                Enjolras hung his head, unbelievably uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

                “Not a problem. Relax, Enjolras – It’s just me.”

                He glanced up, shooting Grantaire a sharp look. The artist didn’t respond as Enjolras had wanted so he whispered, uninjured hand moving to cradle the mug. “You think I haven’t realised? That’s the problem – we look like we’re on a date.”

                “Nonesense,” Grantaire sighed. “Look, Enjolras – I just wanted to spend time with you. Because I haven’t. For months.”

                “Whose fault was that?” He hissed.

                “Yours? You’ve avoided me – ”

                “Since Christmas, I know!” Enjolras hissed. “Because I’m trying to give you chance to make this work with Jaque – ” Grantaire had looked away “ – without me interfering and making it difficult. It should be Jaque who you’re buying coffee for – not me.”

                Grantaire sighed heavily and spoke looking away. “I don’t want to talk about Jaque right now,” he whispered. “I really don’t want to think about that so – so please, Enjolras, don’t be cruel.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “I mean just sit with me and talk as if you don’t hate me. For once.”

                “I _don’t_ hate you!”

                “Enjolras, please.”

                Enjolras watched him for a moment and then, like always, Grantaire suddenly made sense. He understood this desperation to help others and this need to avoid a certain topic and his long jumper sleeves, frayed at the ends where he’d chewed them.

                He wanted to comment – offer reassurance – but realised it wasn’t the right time or place. So he smiled timidly, whispered an apology, and spent a moment letting himself get lost in Grantaire’s eyes.

                The artist blushed very suddenly and looked away, clearing his throat and making them both laugh. “How’s Ben?”

                Enjolras’s favourite subject. He told Grantaire about everything he and the dog had done in the last half year and had invited him back to his house before he’d realised.

                “Really?” Grantaire asked, eyebrow raised. Their coffees had gone. “Are you sure?”

                He shrugged. “Ben likes you. I think he’d like to see you again.”  

                “I do miss him,” Grantaire muttered. “Okay. For a few minutes – and then I’ll let you get on with your day.”

                “I’m enjoying this,” Enjolras admitted. “As embarrassed as I am about my hand and as uncomfortable it is to be sitting opposite you – I’m enjoying this.”

                Grantaire shrugged. “So am I. Even though you’ve been rude to me today, Enjolras.”

                He groaned and hung his head. “I know. I’m sorry, R. Next time the coffee’s on me, alright?”

                He laughed and stood up. “You mean you won’t yell at me next time I try to spend time with you?”

                Enjolras sighed and shook his head, pushing to his feet and remembering his little box of painkillers. “I’ll be gentler. Promise.”

                Grantaire beamed and led the way from the shop, glancing back at Enjolras as they reached the door. “It’s okay, Enjolras. I realise you’ve had a shitty day.”

                “The shittest.”

                “But you’re going home to Ben now,” Grantaire pointed out, making him smile. “I _knew_ it was a good idea for you to get a dog.”

                Enjolras laughed and nodded, walking beside him with his good hand in his pocket. “You’re brilliant, R. You always knew what’s best for me – I should have listened to you sooner.”

                “You should have, yeah,” he laughed. “But never mind. You’ve listened to me now which is more than I’d ever expected.”

                He didn’t know what to say to that and they walked in near-silence all the way back to his house. It was getting late but the day was still hot so, feeling sorry for Benvolio, they took him on a walk.


	35. 35

Grantaire held the lead for most of it, loudly telling the dog that Enjolras had ruined his hand and was going to require help for a few weeks. Enjolras grumbled at this but only quietly because, really, he was over the moon to have Grantaire back in his life. To spend every evening walking his dog with Grantaire was more than he dared to dream for.

                When they got back and Benvolio was suitably exhausted they sat on the settee drinking coffee and sharing a packet of biscuits. Their hands knocked together occasionally but they ignored it as best they could, blushing but refusing to make eye contact.

                The evening wore on quickly and Enjolras knew he was going to have to let him go soon. But memories of the last time Grantaire had visited were so strong he could still taste him and he felt sadness trickle through him with each minute.

                The artist sighed. “I should go,” he muttered. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

                “Of course I am,” he snapped. Grantaire raised an eyebrow and stood up. “Sorry.”

                “It’s okay. Get yourself to sleep, okay?” Grantaire whispered, almost reaching down to touch his cheek. But he caught himself just in time, chest squeezing and mentally screaming at himself. “Does Ben sleep with you yet?”

                “No – not ever,” he said, standing up to say goodbye. “I think it’s best if we keep some space. I don’t want him thinking he rules the place.”

                Grantaire laughed at this and did reach for him – but dropped his hand before they made contact. “Don’t change, Enjolras,” he whispered. “Good luck explaining this to Combeferre.”

                He laughed, blushing, and held his plastered hand out. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I’m in the shit.”

                Grantaire made himself step away before he could try touching him again. “Thank you for this afternoon and evening,” he said brightly. “I loved spending time with you again.”

                “Thank _you_ ,” he said, following. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

                “It’s not a bother, Enjolras.”

                “You made today be _not_ the worst of my life,” he whispered. “And that’s – that’s impressive. Because I was low but you helped and I owe you – ”

                “No, you don’t.”

                “I do – ”

                “No. What _was_ the worst day of your life?” Grantaire asked, hovering with his hand on the lock like he had done so many months ago. Enjolras looked down. “When we broke up?”

                “Of course.”

                “So you don’t owe me,” he whispered. Enjolras looked at him again. “I think I still owe you – ”

                “You don’t.”

                “I was horrible to you last year – ”

                “And I was horrible to you – it’s fine, Grantaire,” he said, voice wobbling. He was going to cry when he left. “It’s fine. Thank you for today. You’re a good friend.”

                Grantaire nodded and opened the door and Enjolras honestly thought they’d say something else but Grantaire didn’t look back – he just walked away. He felt hollow where he stood, face hurting like he’d been slapped and chest burning from all the things he hadn’t said.

                The artist disappeared from view so, feeling crushed, Enjolras shut the door. He said goodnight to Benvolio, turned off the lights, and went to bed. And cried for a good twenty minutes before falling asleep.


	36. 36

They spoke occasionally after that. They’d say hello to each other at the start of meetings or if they were left for a moment alone. Grantaire would ask about Benvolio – or Enjolras’s hand. And it was okay.

                It was okay until Grantaire came to a meeting drunk and without Jaque.

                He was late and Enjolras was already talking and he distracted him, making his voice falter. Recognising his friend’s distress, Combeferre quickly took over.

                “Take a seat, R. We were just saying that our next meeting is going to focus on bi-visibility issues and we’re going to have a brainstorming session in a few minutes. Want to join in?” The artist shrugged, looking greyer than he had done all year. Enjolras _knew_. “Well, if you do just wander over. Before then we want to mention the fundraising we’ve done so far this summer because we’ve had some lovely letters…”

                Enjolras was staring at Grantaire, begging him to look up at him. But he didn’t – not until the meeting had come to an end and the general chatter had started. They locked eyes and the artist appeared to be begging for help.

                Enjolras was half to his feet when Grantaire stood up suddenly and left, glancing over his shoulder once. He took this as an invitation to follow so did, ignoring the questions from his friends and following Grantaire out into the night air. It had been a hot day and it looked like the night was going to be just as uncomfortable.

                “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said gently, edging over to him. Grantaire took a deep breath and spoke with his forehead pressed against the wall.

                “Jaque’s going home to live with his parents for a while because he’s decided he doesn’t want to be queer, thanks, and he says he hates me. He’s meeting up with a girl he used to date and he’s told me that he was only with me because he didn’t want to upset me.”

                “Bullshit!” Enjolras yelled, making Grantaire cower. “Grantaire, that’s bullshit – he loved you!”

                Quite suddenly, the artist was sobbing. “Yeah,” he managed, “I thought so too.”

                “He did! I’m sure he still does – ”

                “He doesn’t love me, Apollo – no one could do that to someone they love.”

                Enjolras was torn. But only for a moment. “I was horrible to you – ”

                “Apollo – ”

                “ – for years but I loved you, R. Love makes us do crazy things.”

                “He said he’s never loved me.”

                “Then he’s an idiot and never deserved you,” Enjolras whispered, being incredibly brave and putting his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. It jumped with another sob. “Oh, Grantaire. No one who can throw you away like this deserves you.”

                “Maybe I’m not _supposed_ to be happy.”

                “Bullshit, R.”

                “I haven’t been happy for years – not properly. Except when I thought he loved me.”

                He had nothing to say to that. He just stood there with his hand creeping slowly towards the centre of his back, wishing he was brave enough to hold him properly. It was a few minutes before he found the strength to whisper.

                “Have you been hurting again?” He asked, voice low and warm. Grantaire sighed and nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”

                Grantaire turned quite suddenly to face him, eyes red and cheeks wet. Enjolras’s hand was still on his back and Grantaire was now almost in his arms and they stared at each other and –

                Grantaire kissed him, reaching up and leaning towards him to close the space. And it hurt. But Enjolras closed his eyes and leaned down, letting Grantaire relax, and put his free hand on his waist. They kissed and pressed together because they’d wanted this for months.

                Enjolras pulled away for a second to gasp, head spinning. But Grantaire didn’t let him breathe for long and pushed his hand into his hair, bringing their lips back together so they could taste each other. This hand in his hair did wild things to Enjolras and he groaned, wishing he could hold Grantaire closer and wishing this was going to end well.

                Each of them were panting by the time Enjolras dared to push Grantaire against the wall so they _could_ press closer together. And it pushed them to the edge – to the point where they were pressed together even if their lips weren’t. They didn’t say anything but Grantaire touched his lips to Enjolras’s neck, making him whimper, and sucked.

                Enjolras was much louder than he ought to have been and cried out, hand almost pushing into the back of Grantaire’s jeans. Instead he slipped it into his pocket, holding him tight and quite liking the pain of it against the brick wall. But Grantaire sucked again, leaving a mark, and his lips were burning.

                He moved so he could see Grantaire again and, lips parted in a gasp, gave him his tongue. He could feel gentle little grunts coming from deep in Grantaire’s chest as they indulged in the flavours of each other. But he wanted to hear more so, grinning, he broke away and put his lips to Grantaire’s neck – just under his jaw.

                The effect was loud and instant. Grantaire gasped and tipped his head back, giving him more room to play, and put both of his hands over Enjolras’s ass to hold him closer. Enjolras could have purred – he could feel and hear and taste Grantaire –

                “What the _hell_ are you doing?”


	37. 37

They jumped apart, red faced and breathless. Jehan.

                “Making out,” Grantaire muttered, reaching for Enjolras’s hand. “Why?”

                Jehan just blinked. “I’ve missed something,” they said, scowling suddenly. “Grantaire, you have a _boyfriend_!”

                “Not anymore,” he said quickly. “Don’t worry. I’m not cheating on Jaque – ”

                “But it would be no less than he deserved,” Enjolras said quickly, lips moving faster than his thoughts. “Jehan, this is really complicated – ”

                They made a disbelieving sound.

                “Please, Jehan,” Grantaire whispered. “Don’t – don’t mention this.”

                Their friend raised an eyebrow. “And what am I supposed to do?”

                “Keep it a secret,” Enjolras said quickly. He laced his fingers between Grantaire’s. “Please.”

                “Just between us,” Grantaire added. His heart was thundering. “Jehan – ”

                “Okay,” they muttered, still glaring. “Promise me this isn’t a bad thing?”

                “It isn’t,” Grantaire said quickly. “Jaque and I split up. Which is why I was upset and late.” Jehan nodded. “Ap – Enjolras came outside with me to offer support and – and – ”

                “You decided to suck face in front of the Musain?” Jehan finished, eyebrow raised. They both blushed. “Look, I don’t care – just look after each other. And I want you to know you can talk to me about your breakup, R,” they added, frowning. “Are you okay?”

                He swallowed tightly and nodded. “I will be. Thank you, Jehan. I’ll tell you all about it – I promise.”

                They nodded and inched back towards the door. “If you don’t want them to know you should come back inside,” they said. “And maybe try covering those hickies.”

                Eyes wide, they looked down at each other’s necks. Grantaire’s would be easier to hide – Enjolras’s was on full view no matter what he did.

                “Shit.”

                “Jehan?” Grantaire said gently, dropping Enjolras’s hand so he could reach for the poet’s. “Jehan – sweetest, most understanding friend – ”

                “Spit it out, R.”

                “Could you grab our stuff for them and tell them Enjolras is taking me home? Tell them I was sick or something – just grab – grab Enjolras’s coat and notebook and throw them downstairs if you want.”

                Jehan rolled their eyes but nodded. “I’ll be five seconds.”

                “You’re the best!” Enjolras whispered, slipping his hands around Grantaire’s waist from behind and successfully making the artist shudder. Jehan laughed and disappeared, giving them a very short moment together.

                “Apollo – ”

                “Come back to mine,” he whispered, lips in his hair and eyes closed. “Come back with me.”

                “Is that a good idea?”

                He shrugged. “You can come and say hey to Ben.”

                Grantaire was laughing at this, still in Enjolras’s arms, when Jehan returned to them with a smirk. “They won’t have guessed,” they said, handing them the notebook and coat. “Go on, guys. Look after each other.”

                “We will,” Enjolras promised, slipping on his coat and very quickly taking Grantaire’s hand again. “Thanks, Jehan.”

                “You owe me,” they muttered, winking as the pair slipped off into the night. Grantaire couldn’t help but grin and was practically bouncing as they walked away.

                They didn’t talk until they got to Enjolras’s. And then they didn’t even talk straight away – they just threw down the notebook and coat and kissed again.

                Benvolio wanted attention but, for once, Enjolras ignored him. Grantaire pushed him into the living room and down onto a settee, hands on his waist the whole time. By the time they calmed down, neither of them could feel their lips and they were gasping for breath, as if they had ran for miles. Enjolras slipped his arms around Grantaire's waist, holding him close, and Grantaire gently kissed his neck. The relief of holding each other was so strong that they fell asleep there together, Grantaire’s head resting on Enjolras’s chest, and didn't wake or move except to see to Benvolio.


	38. 38

Their friends were surprised but not worried about their seemingly new relationship – they’d made the decision to keep pretending they hadn’t known each other before – and they had a lovely evening. There was a token amount of teasing, of course. But nothing bad – no arguments, no fights, no snide comments –

                It didn’t take long for them to be reminded why Grantaire had been so sure this wouldn’t work out. They went a week without seeing each other and, in the evenings, Enjolras was always too tired to talk to him. Grantaire pointed out that he had time to walk his dog – maybe he could phone him then?

                For some reason this was impossible for Enjolras. Looking back on it he would have realised just how stupid he was being but, in that week, nothing made sense.

                It all exploded on the Friday night meeting.

                Grantaire was there, but he was drunk and sulking. Enjolras was getting angrier with the second and couldn’t bear to look at him – except he was so afraid of looking away and losing him forever. Because he knew he was hurting again. And he knew it was his fault.

                “Are you sure you’re not taking on too much, Apollo?” Grantaire said quietly. Enjolras glared at him.

                “What do you mean?”

                “I mean you’re so busy already – all these grand plans are going to take up more of your time and I just don’t think you can cope with that.”

                Enjolras bristled, understanding what he was getting at and not liking it one bit. “I’ve been busy this week, R. Back to normal now.”

                “What _is_ normal?”

                “Apparently, it’s you drunk and trying to pick fights – ”

                “I’m concerned for you!”

                “Oh, really? Because you haven’t shown any concern all week – ”

                “ _I_ haven’t?”

                “Not once did you ask if I was okay with all my work!”

                “You didn’t give me chance!”

                “You had plenty of chances! But you turned it all around so you were the only one who was suffering – like you always do,” Enjolras spat. “Because you’re the only one who suffers, aren’t you?”

                “I can’t believe you think this has only been hurting you,” Grantaire hissed, getting to his feet. Enjolras thought he was about to leave so stood up too, ready to give chase. “Are you that selfish?”

                “Me?” Enjolras squeaked. “Selfish?”

                “You know you are!”

                “How am I selfish, Grantaire? All I do is try to help other people – ”

                “Yeah, when it suits you and makes you look good – ”

                “You think I do this for my ego?”

                “I know you do! I’ve seen you doing this thousands of times and you’re never satisfied until someone thanks you personally for all the fucking sacrifice and hard work – ”

                “I do it because the world is a mess and we have the ability to help it!”

                “But if someone doesn’t _want_ all the glory they’re not good enough, are they?”

                “Are you talking about yourself, now?”

                “Why – because I’m not good enough?”

                “Because you never want to help!”

                “Of course I want to help! Why would I be here if I didn’t want to help?”

                “I don’t know, Grantaire – why did you join the society?” Grantaire hesitated so Enjolras gave him some suggestions. “To find a new place to get pissed? To haunt me? To punish me?”

                “It’s not about you!”

                “Why would you come here except to hurt me?”

                “I wanted to make a difference, Enjolras, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to sacrifice time with people I love to help people I’ve never met and never will!”

                “See, _that’s_ selfish,” Enjolras hissed. He’d forgotten their friends were there and so, apparently, had Grantaire. “That’s only helping on your own terms.”

                “That’s dedicating as much of myself as I can to something.”

                “You never dedicate yourself to things!” Enjolras cried, almost laughing. “Grantaire, you are the most undedicated man I know!”

                “So why the fuck did you want to get back with me?”

                He recoiled. “Because I love you, R,” he whispered, voice sounding strange in the aftermath of their argument. “As angry as you make me I love you – ”

                “I don’t fucking believe you.”

                “You never did! What can I do to make you believe it?”

                “I don’t know, Enjolras – maybe give me priority once in a while?”

                “You know my work is difficult – ”

                “More difficult than finding half an hour to talk to me?” Grantaire yelled. Their friends muttered, surprised that Enjolras could have brushed the artist aside like that. And many of them were trying to work out whether they’d missed some important information about the couple. “I don’t want you to spend every hour of every day thinking about me because I know you don’t love me that much. I don’t want you to be constantly talking to me or even _wanting_ to talk to me – but I’d like to feel wanted occasionally.”

                Enjolras was hurting and embarrassed and spoke without thinking. “Maybe I don’t bother because I know you’ll find someone who’s better than me, R.”

                The artist raised his chin. “What do you mean?”

                “You’ll find someone who _can_ care enough about you – who will sit down and listen to you and give you the love you need because I am _not_ good enough and I know that! I know I’ve never been good enough to you and I know you’ll always find someone who is – ”

                “I don’t want someone else – ”

                “You did before!” Enjolras yelled, voice breaking and tears blurring his vision.

                “I wanted _you_ but you were never there!”

                “I wanted to be!”

                “No you didn’t!”

                “Fuck – Grantaire, I wanted us to be perfect but how could I let myself be happy when so much is going wrong in the world?”

                “The world is always going to be wrong to you!” Grantaire stepped towards him again. “You’re never going to be happy and you’re never going to fall in love because you’re too damn wrapped up in this idea that things need changing.”

                Enjolras was pale. “I fell in love with you, R. And look what happened.”

                “What, you got slightly distracted for a couple of weeks and had to punish us for it? What happened, Enjolras? What national disaster happened this time that meant I became worthless to you?”

                “You’ll never be worthless – ”

                “Stop treating me like it!”

                “Why do you think I find it so hard to give everything to you, hey?” Enjolras snapped, stepping closer. They could almost touch each other now. “What the fuck do you think might be holding me back?”

                “So much, Enjolras,” Grantaire hissed. They were both nearing tears. “Boredom? Your fucking ego? Work? People on the other side of the world?”

                “Try this,” he hissed, “giving you everything – ”

                “You _never_ gave me everything – even when it _was_ just us you were holding back!”

                “ – and finding you cheating on me!” Enjolras practically screamed. Only three people in the room knew the context of this and everyone else starting to panic, wondering whether they were now going to have to denounce their friend.

                Grantaire just stared at him.

                “Yeah,” Enjolras breathed, “it still hurts. And I’m wondering how long it will take to happen again so I thought maybe I should fucking distance myself so it doesn’t hurt as much this time.”

                “You think that lowly of me,” Grantaire muttered. “You think I hate us that much.”

                “You should hate me.”

                “Why the fuck would I hate you?”

                “Because – you said it – I’m never here for you. I don’t care enough about you. I don’t deserve you,” Enjolras whispered. “And I don’t trust you anymore.”

                “I thought you wanted to try this again – ”

                “I did.”

                “I thought you were desperate to make it work – ”

                “I was.”

                “What the hell did I do wrong this time?” Grantaire hissed, voice cutting Enjolras. “Tell me what I did that made you think even _once_ that I was going to stray from you.”

                Enjolras had nothing and just stood there, tears finally falling. “You know I still have nightmares?” He whispered, confusing Grantaire. The artist nodded. “They’re all of you. Falling in love with someone who cares – with someone who knows how to love you properly. Because I do love you – ” his voice shook “ – but I never know how to show it. I never know what to do with this anxiety in my chest but someone out there does – someone deserves you.”

                “You were trying to push me away because you thought you don’t deserve me?” Grantaire summarised, almost reaching for him. Tears were dripping from his chin, now. “That’s illogical, Apollo.”

                He flinched. “Don’t call me Apollo when you’re mad.”

                “I’m not mad anymore.”

                “But I’ve pushed you away – ”

                “Because you’re scared of getting hurt again,” Grantaire breathed. “I understand. I have to work harder at proving that I’m not going to cheat on you – never again. That hurt us both far too much.”

                He trembled. “I’m struggling to trust you, R.”

                “I realise. And I didn’t help it when – when Jaque, did I?”

                Enjolras sobbed and shook his head. He felt sick.

                “Apollo, you are all I want from the world,” Grantaire breathed. “You’re everything to me. You’re a fucking bitch sometimes but you – I know you do care,” he whispered. “I need to earn your trust again. I need to reassure you.”

                “I need to get a fucking grip,” Enjolras muttered. “I’m sorry about this week, lovely.”

                “I’ll survive,” Grantaire whispered, inching closer. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting. It was childish.”

                “We _are_ childish,” Enjolras muttered. “Fucking hell. Okay. Grantaire – I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for yelling at you and I’m sorry for not making time for you and I’m sorry for not loving you like I should have done this week.”

                Grantaire edged closer again, desperate to touch him. Even briefly. “I’m sorry for not being understanding and for putting extra pressure on you and for cheating on you, lovely.”

                Enjolras closed his eyes against another sob and it was too much. Grantaire threw his arms around him, crushing them together, and Enjolras shook like he’d been electrocuted. But he clung to the artist and tried to control his breathing, focusing instead on the solid warmth of Grantaire’s chest.


	39. 39

They were okay. But their friends weren’t willing to let all those unexplained sentences slide so, a moment after Enjolras had stopped crying, questions poured in.

                “What the hell just happened?” Bossuet hissed, making them jump. They’d forgotten that they had an audience. “R, you’ve been really low this week and you’re just going to _forgive_ him? Just like that?”

                “It’s complicated, Bossuet,” Grantaire sighed, releasing Enjolras enough to talk. But he kept his arm around his waist and Enjolras kept a handful of his shirt. “You don’t understand – ”

                “Then you better explain because right now I’m still hating Enjolras – ”

                “Enjolras!” Feuilly echoed. “Didn’t you hear what they said? Grantaire _cheated_ on him – ”

                “Guys!” Enjolras yelled, voice croaking. “Don’t hate either of us. We’ve both been idiots but most of it is from years ago – ”

                “ _What_?”

                Grantaire groaned and spoke directly to Bossuet. “I’ve known Enjolras for years, Bos. Sorry I didn’t tell you before but it was hurting us both too much.”

                “What the fuck are you on about? You only met when we brought you here!”

                “No,” Combeferre sighed. “They knew each other before university. And they dated through university. And, honestly, it wasn’t that bad – until Enjolras got swept up in other things and Grantaire hooked up with someone else a few times. It broke them both and they’ve been trying to recover from it in their own ways but it turns out neither of them ever got over each other and this is where we are now – trying desperately to make them both grow the fuck up and stop hurting each other.”

                “You _cheated_ on him?” Jehan squeaked, aiming this at Grantaire. Who groaned and turned to hide in Enjolras’s shoulder. “R!”

                “We were young,” Enjolras said, defending him. “We were hurting each other and didn’t deserve each other – either of us.”

                “You were idiots and still are,” Courfeyrac muttered. “I’m not sure I’m happy about you being back together.”

                Enjolras paled and it was Grantaire’s turn to be defensive. “We’re going to be better – look how quickly we recovered from that argument!” Bahorel laughed. “Look – we want this to work. And we know each other better now – well enough to sort our shit before it gets too bad.”

                “I’m sorry for lingering on the past so much,” Enjolras whispered, lips in his hair. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve changed since then – ”

                “So have you, Apollo.”

                “I’ll be better,” he promised, fixing Courfeyrac with a heavy glare. “I love you, Grantaire.”

                The artist sighed and gave him such a tight hug that it crushed the air from his lungs. “I love you too, Apollo. Always have.”

                Feuilly frowned. “You forgive him, Enj?”

                “Of course I do,” Enjolras hissed, arms tightening around the artist. “It was messy. We were both at fault and I pushed him away – ”

                “But you’re still upset by it! You just said – you’re still hurting!”

                “But I forgive him,” Enjolras said lowly. “I forgive him and I don’t want any of you to hold it against him.”

                “I don’t understand you guys,” Bahorel muttered, patting Feuilly’s shoulder. “Take care of each other, alright?”

                “We’ll try,” Grantaire muttered. “I’m sorry, Enjolras.”

                He hushed him and stroked his back, holding him closer. “We’re okay, R.”

                Grantaire just sighed and tightened his arms around him. “We shouldn’t have shouted.”

                “No, darling, we shouldn’t,” Enjolras agreed. Everyone was still staring at them. “Are you okay? Do you want a drink?”

                “I’ve already drank too much,” he muttered. “I should go home.”

                Enjolras felt a lump in his throat and nodded, closing his eyes. “Do you want space?”

                “Enjolras, that is exactly the _opposite_ of what I want!”

                “Okay, okay,” he murmured, taking fistsfull of Grantaire’s jumper to hold him close. “I’m sorry, R. Want me to come with you?”

                “Don’t leave everyone early for me – ”

                Enjolras groaned quietly and pulled back – just enough to kiss him. “I want to be with you,” he said firmly. Grantaire blinked. “Let’s just go.”

                “Are you sure?”

                He nodded and kissed his cheek tenderly before turning back to everyone. “Sorry about tonight,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’re going. You might have to get used to this because, historically, we’re bad at communicating. And it always boils down to this.”

                “ _This_?” Bossuet echoed, still angry. “ _This_ being you hurting Grantaire – ?”

                “ _This_ being screaming matches that end up in tears and kisses,” Combeferre said, frowning at his friend. “Don’t villainise Enjolras, Bos. They’re as bad as each other.”

                “I’m concerned about R – ”

                “And you think we _aren’t_?” Courfeyrac said genltly. “No one here understands R like Enjolras does.” Joly cleared his throat and Courf laughed, lightening the mood. “Okay – Enjolras and Joly do. Who did R go to when Jaque turned into boyfriend from hell?”

                Bossuet just glared at the table, still not convinced. So, sighing dramatically, Joly took his hand. “Babe, it’s okay,” he said quietly. Silently, Enjolras and Grantaire were collecting their things. “I trust Enj with him. I’ve known he’s been pining after him for about a year. And they’re both angry, hot-headed idiots but they’ll sort themselves out.”

                “One day I’ll learn to stop panicking about my own world,” Enjolras said, speaking from the opposite side of the room to Grantaire. Who smiled. “One day I’ll be mature enough for you, Grantaire.”

                The artist just grinned and looked down, blushing a little bit. Because he loved Enjolras – oh, he loved him – and, actually, recovering from an argument with him was far better than _not_ arguing ever.

                He wouldn’t admit that to anyone.

                They left soon after, deciding it was best to let their friends argue about them _without_ them being there. Besides, they’d had enough arguing for that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! It means a lot.


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